Rubicon
by GStales
Summary: These adventures happened so very many years ago, but I remember the events as though it were yesterday I was living them.      Kitty Russell
1. Chapter 1

**RUBICON**

Gunsmoke fan-fiction ~ Gstales

Disclaimer - Story based on the classic characters of the radio and TV Western Drama **Gunsmoke. **No infringement of rights intended, no profit made by the telling of this story. History, both real and GS may have been adjusted to fit the confines of the story.

_These adventures happened so very many years ago, but I remember the events as though it were yesterday I was living them._

_This is the story of Rubicon, Texas._

_It is a tale of a town and people I will never forget. Most importantly, it is a story of the power of love and faith, and how you can't have the one without the other._

_- Kitty Russell_

**Chapter One**

**Dodge City Jail- March 1870**

I cowered beneath the musty wool blanket, but it offered little shelter. Outside, the wind howled, blowing cold and street dust through the glassless caged window. I had to do something to stop the bone-chilling draft or I would freeze to death. Bad joke - as my destiny had already been sealed by the lawman sitting in the outer office. I stood, and grabbed the dirty pillow from my cot to stuff in the open hole. With the pillow raised in mid air I stared at the scene outside the barred, stone frame. Silhouetted against thelight from a gas street lamp was the executioner's gallows, a hangman's noose was swinging wildly against the wind.

My mind fought with denial. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. The pillow slipped from my fingers to the stone cold floor. Reaching up in desperation, I grabbed the bars in my hands. My mind was whirling like a Kansas twister, out of control, spinning faster and faster as I searched for a reason to my predicament. I replayed the events of the last week. Answers meant to reassure only produced more questions.

"They'd never hang a woman." Red the bartender had told me.

Adamantly Dr. Galen Adams had agreed, "Matt will be back soon, then this whole mess will get straightened out."

Deputy Chester Goode had concurred, "Heavens, don't you worry none now Miss Kitty."Dillon hadn't returned, and Chester, his well intentioned, though somewhat inept sidekick had been banished from the Marshal's Office and was God knows where trying to track Matt down.

I shivered from cold fear. I had to get out of here, but how? With all the strength I could muster I pulled on the iron bars. The effort proved useless. My head dropped forward until it rested against the unbending metal. "Matt, Matt." I whispered. "I need you." A sob worked free from my constricted throat. I hardened myself to face my fate.

**GS GS GS**

Marshal Ray Barger was in the front office; he'd been there for some time. I heard the familiar squeak of the chair as he leaned back, and the thump of his boots as he propped his feet on Matt Dillon's desk. He'd been drinking whiskey, as was his habit. I could envision the smug grin on his smarmy face as he studied once again the Wanted Poster with my picture on it. If I closed my eyes I could see it, the image seared on my brain like a red-hot brand on a maverick calf. "Wanted Dead or Alive, Kathleen Russell, for the murder of Leland Pollack in the city of San Francisco." With it would be Executioner's Warrant, the document that gave him the authority to carry out the death sentence when and where he saw fit.

I thought back to when this whole stinking mess had started. Ray Barger had been a US Marshal in San Francisco. He had been known to frequent the waterfront saloons, and was a common sight at the saloon where I had been employed. Like so many other lawmen ofthat time, he seemed to think the badge he wore gave him the right to take what he wanted and use it anyway he saw fit. That included the girls of the Gold Nugget where I worked. When he tried to take me I told him I wasn't for the taking, not for him or anyone else.

"Like I've told you before, I'm picky." I said, prying myself from his arms. I'd made a show of dusting myself off as though I were dirtied by the contact with him.

He had narrowed his beady eyes at me, while his lips had curled in a menacing snarl, "You'll be sorry little Missy." His prediction had proved accurate.

I had been living in a small room at the Gold Nugget at the time Leland Pollack was murdered. Pollack was a gambler, handsome with a keen eye for the ladies. He was quick witted and amusing, and I enjoyed being with him. I had spent time in his company the night he died, but I had nothing to do with his death. I had no idea how his body ended up in my room, but it was clear someone wanted it to look like I was responsible for the crime. I was taken in for questioning. Without an alibi, I was arrested for his murder.

A trial, such as it was, had taken place in San Francisco in the fall of 1868. Ray Barger was a key witness for the prosecution, telling the court he had seen Pollack escort me to my room that evening. I was found guilty and sentenced to life behind bars. I was transferred to the San Francisco Women's Prison. It was a wretched place with grimy, dank

cells filled with women who had given up on life.

I had made friends during my time in San Francisco. As it turned out, one of the best was a man by the name of Danny Wilson. Most people thought of Danny as nothing more than a two-bit con artist, but I knew him to be a man with a kind and good heart. He'd been blessed with a silver tongue that could sweet talk the sourest of women. That would be an apt description of the head matron at the prison. I had already suffered the consequences of annoying her with my youth and looks, and had a black eye to prove it. Danny had come to my rescue on my second day at the prison, while visiting me he'dlet it slip that he had a plan in the works. "Just keep your eyes and ears open," he had cautioned. I was never sure how he did it, and I was half afraid to ask, but that night the guard came to my cell, held it open and told me to run and not look back. Danny was waiting at the prison gate. He had a carpetbag with my belongings and a stagecoach ticket east.

I rode that stage for days. When my money ran out, I took jobs along the route to pay for the next stage ride. It was in Dodge City that I found a home and a reason to stay. I put San Francisco far behind me, and concentrated on making a future. I found good friends, the kind I could share almost anything with. But, I kept the murder of Leland Pollack to myself.

Two years had passed since my time in San Francisco. My good friend Marshal Matt Dillon had been out of town and I was busy planning a private welcome home. I had stopped by the stage depot, hoping a special package had arrived from St Louis.

"Maybe it'll be here on the next run, Miss Kitty," Slim the depot clerk had told me. I said my thanks and turned to head back to the Long Branch Saloon, when I saw Ray Barger. He was leaning against a hitching rail, his narrow eyes focused on me. I didn't know what to do. I froze as I watched him move toward me. "Been looking fer you, fer a long spell, Little Missy." He drawled.

Panic took control of my actions. I turned from him, and ran down the street with my satin skirts hitched up to my knees to keep me from tripping. I burst through the batwing doors of the Long Branch and ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. I slammed thedoor to my room shut and locked it, then sat on my bed waiting, knowing he would come. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands were shaking and despite the biting cold, perspiration was beading on my forehead. I folded my hands in an effort to steady them and ended up saying a prayer, "Please, please let Matt come home before it'stoo late."

Barger came that night, pounding on my door, demanding I open it, threatening to break it down if I didn't. It was an ugly scene. A saloon filled with cowpokes and town folk alike tried to convince Barger I couldn't be guilty of a crime like murder.

"You let her go." Red had ordered with the bar rifle in his hand. Other's found their courage and moved toward Barger ready to pull their weapons on the lawman.

Barger only laughed at them as he drew his pistol from its holster and held it to my head. "Little Missy here will be the first one to take a bullet. If you don't want to see her meet her final judgment tonight you'd best drop those guns." The shocked men let their weapons fall to the floor.

"This here badge makes me the law in Dodge City, seeings how you ain't got no Marshal right now. As long as I'm here, wearing this badge, this is my town. I'll leave after Little Missy has paid for her crime and is swinging from the gallows."

**GS GS GS GS**

I ran a hand over my eyes, blurring the image of these recent memories. I sat on the cot and tried to conjure good thoughts of happy times. If these were my final hours, I was not going to spend them thinking about that bastard, Ray Barger.

I closed my eyes remembering picnics taken by cool streams on hot summer days, wine chilled by rushing water and the aroma of fish frying on an outdoor flame. I thought of the man who had joined me on those picnics. I held tight to his image as if in doing so Icould bring him home to me.

"Kitty." a hoarse voice whispered from outside the cell window.

"Doc?" I whispered back as I sprang from the cot and rushed to the window. I slid my hand outside of the bars to hold his.

"Your fingers are like ice," he said tightening his grip, and then letting go. "Kitty we don't have much time."

He began shoving a pair of worn jeans and a work shirt through the slats, it was a tight fit, and took a good amount of tugging on my end to pull it through.

"Get changed then get back under the blanket, in case Barger comes in. I've got some powders for the Marshal here, that should give him a good night's sleep. There's a horse around the rear. Once I get you out of here, head out of town and keep going."

I had time to whisper a grateful `thanks' before he was gone. Quickly, I looked at the clothing. It was typical ranch hand garb, not new, but clean. I folded my blue skirt and white blouse and then sat back on the bunk with the blanket pulled up to my shoulders.

The beat of my heart was so loud in my ears that I couldn't hear the voices in the front office at first, but I forced it to calm.

"I just wanted to see Miss Russell." I heard Doc say.

"She ain't seeing no visitors tonight, unless maybe it's me for a fare-thee-well kiss." Barger slurred. I could envision his slimy smirk.

I heard a quick inhale of breath before Doc continued, "You're quite a lawman taking all this time to see that a murderess like Miss Russell is brought to justice. Imagine her beingin our midst all this time. No telling who she might have killed next, must have taken a lot of sacrifice on your part. The people of this town owe you a mighty debt."

"Damn right it did. Ain't no man nor woman going to get the best of Ray Barger."

"I can see that." Adams soothed. "Mind if I join you in a drink. Matt keeps his glasses under this cabinet. Here, let me pour you another." I could hear the sound of the cabinet door open, then the clink of glasses. "Here you go Marshal." Doc said. There wasquiet for a moment and then I heard Doc toast, "To your future success."

"And to yours doctor, don't know why I didn't see before what a mindful person you are." I pictured the two of them out there drinking; I wondered if Doc had slipped the powder into Barger's drink. All of the sudden there was quiet, followed by a loud thud that seemed to shake the building with its impact.

I heard hurried footsteps, and then the door to the jail opened. "Thank God..." I breathed as Doc walked through the door, with the key ring in his hand.

"He's out cold, will be until morning considering the amount of liquor he's consumed along with my powders. He shouldn't remember anything either."

Fumbling with the lock, Doc tried several keys, each failing to work. "Hurry, oh please hurry," I begged. At last the lock gave way and the door swung open. I grabbed my dear friend giving him one last hug.

"Thank you Doc - what ever happens, thank you." He didn't reply, he just scratched at his whiskers and nodded his head. There were tears in his eyes. I grabbed the clothes I'd discarded and raced from the jail to the office.

Sidestepping the inert form of Ray Barger, I slipped out the side door, running to the waiting mount at the rear of the jail. The horse was a sorry looking beast, but I thanked my lucky stars for him. A well used sheepskin coat, battered Stetson, and worn cowboy boots were hanging from the saddle horn. Along with a grubby knapsack, I took the time to pull the coat and hat on. I stuffed my skirt and blouse and the boots into the knapsack and hung it from the pommel. Climbing on the horse's back I gave him a forceful nudge with my high-heeled shoes and headed out of town taking the south road to the Vinegarroon turnoff.

The partial moon provided barely enough light to travel by. I had a vague idea where I was headed. My main objective was to put as many miles between myself and Ray Barger as possible. The rising sun was breaking through the horizon before I finally decided to rest. In a rugged wooded region, I found a spot sheltered from view near a narrow river. I slipped from the horse's back to lead him to the water. When the horse and I had had our fill, I led him to the trees, and pulled the saddle from his back. Removing the saddlebags, I carried them to an alcove of trees, where I sat down with less than my usual grace.

Rummaging through the bags, I found some jerky. There was coffee too, but I wasn't about to chance building a fire. The jerky was tough and the taste so salty it made me gag. I forced myself to eat it, knowing the need to keep up my strength for what lay ahead.A smile crossed my lips when I saw several small bundles of brightly colored cloth. I opened up a bundle to find a dozen of Bessie Roniger's sugar cookies, while another revealed half a loaf of freshly baked bread. It was then that I recognized the clothing Iwore as Will's. Bess and Will must have helped Doc plan my escape.

At the bottom of the first saddlebag was a bottle of Madam Sophia's Hair Color Restorer. Black hair dye, I laughed out loud. "Bess you think of everything. Now, did you pack a mirror so I can see what it looks like when I'm finished?" The second bag produced the mirror, Bessie's prized abalone hand mirror, and a coin purse containing $22.00-a small fortune considering my circumstance.

The sun brought welcomed warmth. I spent the rest of the morning dying my hair. The air was still cold and I was shivering when I finished, but at least the red hair was gone and the black hair would provide me with some disguise. In the afternoon I rested, and by sunset I was ready to set out on the trail again.

As I rode I tried to map out my future. I figured I would keep on heading south toward Rubicon, Texas. I had a friend named Flossie, who had sent me a letter once from that town. Maybe she was still in Rubicon and could help get me a job or put me up for aspell. By any way I figured it, I still had another week or better on the trail. My trusty steed stumbled, and I amended my thought, "If the horse lasts that long."

**GS GS GS GS**

The spring weather had taken a turn for the worse. A cold rain and icy wind impeded our progress. I'd kept on the lookout for any type of shelter, but the land was barren and void of settlers. It wasn't until we were thoroughly soaked that I spied what was left of an abandoned farmstead. A lean-to provided refuge for the horse, and after seeing what was left of the house I wondered if the animal wasn't making the better deal. The structure had obviously succumbed to a fire years earlier. There was a portion of the main floor stillintact, although it was hardly undamaged. I propped up a beam to reinforce the ceiling overhead. The most, which could be said for my sanctuary, was it kept me drier than I'd have been outside, but certainly not by much. I fell asleep at some point, a benefit ofsheer exhaustion. When I awoke, sunlight was filtering in through the slated second story floorboards. I emerged from the ruins blinking against the warm sunshine to find my horse had fled during the storm. The next two days were spent in trying to track him seems he had more spunk to him than I had thought. Tired and disheartened, I had finally admitted defeat and set out on foot, stuffing all my belongings into one saddlebag and knapsack.

I'd been headed in the direction of the sign pointing to the stage stop known as Schaefer's Crossing for half a day. I must have resembled a scrawny saddle bum as I walked toward the way station. My hair was pushed under the hat, and my figure was camouflaged by the bulk of the sheepskin jacket. Any trace of face paint had long since worn off.

An older man, with grizzled whiskers was leading a fresh team to a waiting stagecoach. He raised his hand in greeting. "Howdy." he called.

I nodded my head in return. "Lookin fer a ride?" he asked. I nodded a second time in answer, knowing my voice would give me away for certain.

"Looks like you could do with a meal, young fella... Come on in the house, I `spect the old woman's still got some sonovabitch stew on the stove."

The old woman was a pleasant faced middle aged woman of abundant size. She smiled her hello, and motioned to a side room, "You can clean up in there if you're a mind to."

"Thanks." I replied automatically.

"You ain't no fella." She observed.

"Easier to travel alone as a fella." I said. She nodded her head in understanding.

The water in the basin was fresh, and the soap had a pleasant scent. It felt good to scrub the trail dust from my face and hands. I pulled the hat from my head letting my hair tumbledown my back. I blinked at the foreign reflection in the mirror. My hair was black as ebony and at odds with my red eyebrows. I'd have to do something about that. A little charcoal from the room's wood stove soon colored them. It took several minutes to run a comb through the snarls. I pulled the hair back from my face and secured it in a single braid. Taking a deep breath to shore up my courage I returned to the main room.

I pulled up a chair to the table, where a steaming plate of stew awaited me. The first taste brought warmth to my spirit and strength to my bones. "This is mighty fine." I said, with my mouth full of the second bite.

"Been a while since you ate good?" she asked, as she poured coffee in the tin cup in front of me.

"Been a spell." I admitted.

Her husband came in the house. He seemed surprised to see the change in my gender, but held back from commenting on it. "Where you headed?" he asked.

"Rubicon." I replied.

"Cost you two bits," he said, casting a critical eye in my direction.

"Sounds fair. When do we leave?"

"Stage pulls out directly." He smiled, and I figured I must have passed muster.

^*^The stage lurched around the corner and seemed suspended on its two side wheels for a moment. Trail dust and cigar smoke swirled around the inside of the coach. I hung on tight to the window frame, to keep from being tossed in the lap of the man ridingopposite me. Gunshots and rifle fire were exploding around us.

With a cigar clenched between his teeth, my riding companion ordered, "Get down." He pulled the shades leaving his at half mast, then swiftly retrieved a revolver from his carpetbag. After adjusting his Stetson he took careful aim out the window, firing shots in rapid succession.

Following his orders I cringed on the coach floor, praying for his accuracy with the gun, and the driver's ability to outdistance our attackers.

I couldn't help but think `what next?' Disaster seemed to have marked my trail. I lifted my head high enough to peak out the window and a bullet whizzed by my ear forcing me back to the floor.

"I told you to keep down."

"Sorry." I replied.

Mr. Harris and I had shared the coach for the last twenty miles. He was a rugged looking cowboy in his late thirties. Though a man of few words, I had nevertheless learned he owned a ranch outside of Rubicon and was the father of two young daughters. Fromthe picture he'd been looking at they appeared to be around nine and ten, their mother and an infant son had died in childbirth several years earlier, he'd informed me tersely.

The fleeting image of a tall, blue-eyed lawman passed by my mind's eye - I had been disciplining my thoughts not to go there. There was no sense thinking about Matt. I was a wanted woman now, and if I knew Marshal Dillon, duty and the badge would not allow him to think of me in any way but that.

"Got'm!" Harris exclaimed. He took a precious moment to reload his six -shooter.

From up above, I heard a frightful groan followed by the sight of the man riding shotgun as he fell past the stagecoach window to the ground. I could hear the thud of his body despite all the other noises going on around us. My stomach muscles tightened and thesonovabitch stew threatened to make a second appearance. I swallowed hard.

"Say", I asked with a bit of false bravado, "You got another gun in there?""Women got no business with weapons." he replied. "Just keep your head low, and hush up."

There was another wild pitch of the coach, as the vehicle traveled over rough ground. We hit a boulder, and the wheels lost contact with the earth, we seemed to hang in mid air, before coming down with a crash. The sound of splintering wood banded with gunfire and heart beat. Somehow the wounded stage remained intact, limping onward.

The interval between gunshots increased until all was quiet. Harris remained poised at the window, his gun cocked but silent. I held my breath, waiting, wondering if we were indeed safe.

We traveled on for some distance before the driver pulled the stage to a stop. He climbed down and opened the coach door, "Everyone all right in here?" he asked as we jumped out of the conveyance.

Mr. Harris answered for both of us, "We're okay Buck, what about Jenkins?"

"Shot in the head, I `spect he was dead afore he hit the ground."

I shuddered, my thoughts centering on the young man who had offered me a helping hand into the coach at the way station. Wrapping my arms around myself I gave a backward glance at the trail behind us.

"Lou Jenkins was a good man, his Pa's gonna take this hard." Harris said. "Might make him feel some better to know, we got all them cowards but the one that high tailed it outa here. Guess that pays'm back some for poor Lou."

Buck blinked his eyes and winced in answer, then turned to study the stage. It was listing to one side.

"You think this rig can make it to Rubicon?" Harris asked.

Buck was studying the coach; he tested the strength of the front right wheel. "This one here, is in a bad way, see that split?"

Mr. Harris looked at me and then back at the driver, "Could be worse Buck, at least we're still alive."

Buck puffed out his cheeks and blew air threw his teeth. "I'd best get the tool box, and see if I can patch us up a might."

**GS GS GS GS**

It was another hour before we were back on the trail. The wagon lurched with every turn of that front right wheel, but with every rotation we breathed a sigh of relief, knowing we were one turn closer to Rubicon.

"You handled yourself well back there Miss." Mr. Harris said, breaking the quiet between us. "Most women woulda been having vapors.'

"I've never known hysterics to make a situation easier." I replied. "You didn't do so bad yourself. Mr. Harris."

In the shadow of the early evening I saw him smile. A bout of near disaster had made us friends. "Call me Parm," he said, reaching his right hand out for mine. "Parmly Harris."

Taking his hand I returned, "Ka..." I caught myself; I'd made the mistake of using my real name back in Dodge. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. "Cassandra Adams." I replied. I smiled, thinking how easily I had attached myself to Doc's name.

"Well now Cassandra Adams, are you planning on settling in Rubicon? Not much there you know a few saloons, a general store, a church and a school."

"I might be, I've a friend who lived in Rubicon, and I'm hoping she's still there. Maybe you know her, Flossie Miller is her name."

"Why hell, begging your pardon Miss Cassandra, most everyone knows Flossie. She works outa the Trails End Saloon. She's a right friendly gal." He stopped talking while he took a good look at me. "Are you in the same business as Flossie?"

My lips curled upward and I raised a single eyebrow at him. "That depends, what business is Miss Flossie in these days?"

"Well..." he drawled. "You might say she sells whiskey and comfort."

"I've sold a little whiskey in my day Parm; let's just leave it at that."

"Yes Ma'am." he replied, with a grin. "Tell you what, when we get to Rubicon, I'll walk you over to the Trails End, make sure you get there safe and all. Fact is I could use a drink or two after this ride."

"You got a deal. I could use a shot of red eye myself. " I had a feeling Parm Harris was going to be a good friend to have on my side. I was certain sure I didn't want him as an enemy.

It was dark when the stage hobbled into town. Even in the dim light I could tell Rubicon was a lot like Dodge City. There may have been a church in town, but from the look and sounds of things the saloons did the better business.

With my knapsack and saddlebag in hand I stood waiting for Parm Harris to retrieve his baggage from the boot. He placed a hand under my elbow, guiding me across the street.

"Well Miss Adams, welcome to Rubicon, let me introduce you to the town."

***We stood for a moment at the batwing doors of the Trails End, thus giving me the opportunity to absorb the saloon's atmosphere. Pointing to a fleshy, mustached man at the bar, Parm explained, "That's Ferdinand Kutz, he runs the place."

A piano player in the corner pounded out the melody to Oh Susanna. Loud voices and raucous laughter complimented the tune. The floor was dirty, littered with ashes, peanut shells, spittle along with other unrecognizable garbage. It was wild and alive and it made me think of the Long Branch and the friends I'd left behind.

We pushed through the doors and Parm led me to the bar. "Bottle of whiskey, Ferd and a couple glasses." he called to the bartender."Sure thing Parm, when did you get back?"

"Stage just pulled in. We ran into a little trouble, Lou Jenkins was killed." At that news a small crowd began closing in on us as the patrons of the Trails End gathered to hear the details.

Ferd moved closer too, while placing a bottle and glasses in front of us, he asked, "The Spencer gang?"

"Could a been, all I know is we done to them worse than they done to us."

Elbowing his way through the crowd, a tall lanky cowboy with a cheek full of chew asked Parm Harris, "Did you talk with Sheriff Maxwell yet?"

"I reckon Buck is doing just that right now Charlie." Harris answered calmly.

Taking aim Charlie spit a stream of tobacco juice, he missed the spittoon. "I tell you something's gotta be done and telling Maxwell ain't agonna do no good. Talk is, he's in cahoots with Verdon Spencer."

"Now, you ain't got no proof of that..." Parm said as he poured me a drink. I swallowed the contents in one gulp. The liquid burned its way down my throat, and brought tears to my eyes. I choked back a cough and held my glass out for more. My courage neededfortification.

"If this was part of Spencer's gang, we got rid of three or four of `em, trouble is there's more where they came from. Verdon draws bad ones, like a skunk draws stink." Harris said.

Kutz leaned forward on the bar, "Who's gonna tell Ed Jenkins his boy was killed?"

Parm reluctantly volunteered, "Guess, I'll do the dirty work, Ed's been a good neighbor - might come some easier hearing it from a friend."

The whiskey had had a powerful and immediate affect on me. My eyes were struggling to stay open. My escort must have noticed. He took a look around the establishment.

Giving me a nudge in the ribs, he said, "There's Flossie now, talking to some of the Circle X boys." Parm motioned to a tall splendidly built blond at the far end of the bar. She was engaged in conversation with several cowboys who seemed enthralled by her attention. At this distance I could see my friend had changed little over the years.

"How about that." I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Guess I'll go see if I can surprise her." Truth was I wanted to get to her before she saw me. I was worried what her reaction would be to my new identity. Kitty Russell was gone, dead and buried as far as I was concerned without any chance of resurrection.

I quickly walked to the other end of the bar, and lifted my hands up to cover her eyes from behind. "Guess who." I said loudly, but under my breath I quickly hissed out. "It's me, Kitty Russell, I'm in trouble with the law, I need help, I'm calling myself Cassandra Adams."

Flossie always a fast study ducked out of my hold and declared, "Why Cassie Adams, I'd know your voice anywhere."

She grabbed me in a bear lock of a hug, whispering in my ear, "Sweetie what the hell did you do to yourself."

I couldn't help but giggle, and after so many days without laughter in my life it sounded strange to my ears. Flossie held me at arms length giving each of us the opportunity to study the other. She was flawless, even the Trails End couldn't dim her beauty. I smiled at the sight of her, "I just got in town." I replied.

Parm Harris came up behind me, "Flossie, I think your friend here could do with a good nights sleep. We had some trouble on the stage, but I expect Miss Adams can tell you all about that."

Parm tipped his hat to me, "Well I'd best head out to the Jenkins ranch and break the news to Ol' Ed, and I'm kinda anxious to see how my little girls managed back at the ranch without me. Miss Cassandra I expect to see a lot more of you the next time I'm intown." His eyes burned a quick trail down my body and back up again, before he turned and left the saloon.

"Be seeing you Parm." Flossie called, before giving her attention to me. Grabbing my arm she said, "Come on back in the store room and tell me what this is all about." She led me through a door at the back of the saloon. Grabbing a match from the holder she lit a lamp. "Here, sit down." She pulled a chair from the wall and gave me a gentle push. "Now tell me... what is all this about? Why is my old friend Kitty Russell suddenly calling herself Cassandra Adams? What kind of trouble are you having with the law, and what in hellare you doing with that black hair?"Only a few short years before Flossie and I had done some growing up at Panacea Sykes Gambling Palace, in New Orleans. Both of us thinking we were far more mature than our inconsiderable years would indicate; we lived the life of women of the world. We compared our conquests, and empathized over our losses. We thought alike. Laughed at the same things and both had dreams of someday being more than a saloon girl.

"It's a long story." I began.

Flossie laughed, "I have time for the penny novel version."

I recounted my story as succinctly as I could, starting with the murder in San Francisco and ending with the stage ride to Rubicon, leaving out the extent of my relationship with Matt Dillon.

Flossie narrowed her blue eyes, "This Barger will be after you, and so will the Dodge City Marshal."

I nodded my head, "Look Flossie, if you want me to move on I understand. You don't need my brand of trouble."

She leaned against the wall folding her arms, "Kitty, I mean Cassie," she smiled, "I guess I'd best get used to calling you that. I know if things were turned around, I could count on you. There's no reason they would come looking for you here in Rubicon is there?" I shook my head 'no'. She continued, "Besides, they're looking for some redheaded gal." Flossie leaned forward and tugged my black braid then gave me a careful look. "You still got a figure under all those man clothes?" she asked.

"I could use a couple good meals to fill out some, but I think I'm still passable."

Her voice became enthusiastic, "Good, we can use another gal. There's a free room at the end of the stairs. You can do well here, save enough money to get you where ever you want to go."

"Flossie, there's one thing... I'll slop the floors and clean the spittoons, I'll sell all the whiskey you want, but I'm not selling more than that."

Flossie took a deep breath, "Pity." she said, "There's good money in it. Well, if that be the case, I'm afraid I can't let you have one of the upstairs rooms. We need those." She paused, thinking.

"Look Flossie, anything you have." I was feeling a bit desperate. "I'll sleep in here if I have to."

"No Sweetie. That won't be necessary. See that door." She pointed to a rough-hewn, framed door on the other side of the beer kegs. Taking the lamp from the holder she led the way. Opening the door, she held the light high to illuminate the sparse quarters. Asmall cot, washstand, stool and cracked mirror were the room's meagerfurnishings. "I know it's not much, but it's yours for as long as you need it." She set the lamp on the washstand. "A little soap and water will clean this place up fine."

I was so tired I didn't care. Flossie wrapped an arm around me and gave me an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "I've got to get back out front, or Ferd will have my hide. But when I get a break, I'll bring you some fresh water to wash up with and something to eat."

"Thanks Flossie."

The door closed and I was left alone in the room, it wasn't much larger than the jail cell I'd left behind in Dodge, and the thought occurred to me that I was just as much a prisoner here as I had been there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

I sat on the cot, it was lumpy, the pillow was filthy and I could only imagine what matter of vermin inhabited it. I tossed it to the floor, and lay down, pillowing my head on my arm. I thought of Matt and how alone I was. I cried some and then I must have fallen asleep. A ray of light shining through the room's small window awakened me. I sat up feeling confused, looking for the familiar sights of my pretty room at the Long Branch. It hit me hard - the remembering. I was a wanted woman.

Flossie must have returned during the night, for a pitcher and bowl sat on the washstand along with a cake of soap and a clean towel. There was nothing to eat, and I could only assume Flossie had thought better of leaving food within easy access of rats and mice.

My stomach protested its empty state with a loud growl. I shook the silver dollars in my coin purse and decided I'd have to part with a few to make my circumstances bearable. I made a mental list of the items I would need from the general store. A tin of biscuits, sheeting for the bed, a pillow, clothing and personal items - the list seemed endless. I didn't even know if Ferdinand Kutz would go along with my being here, and realized my first objective was to secure employment.

I washed up the best I could. I pulled the blue skirt and white blouse out of the knapsack; they were wrinkled but not as badly as I thought they might be. I combed my hair and piled it on top of my head. I longed for face paint to hide my freckles and bring some color back to my cheeks, and added that to my list. Still, looking in the mirror I knew I was more than passable. The black hair coupled with my fair skin and blue eyes was very attractive. I was sure Ferd would be happy to have me in his employ, even if it was just selling whiskey.

In the harsh morning light the bare saloon looked anything but inviting. My two years at the Long Branch had spoiled me. This place was filthy. I saw the man Parm Harris had referred to as Ferdinand Kutz standing behind the bar counting bottles. I judged him to be around thirty-five. He was of average height, weak armed and heavy in the middle. His dark greasy hair was parted down the middle, and an ill-kept moustache framed his mouth.

I cleared my throat and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Kutz?"

He turned around abruptly. He smiled, but it held no warmth.

"You're Parm's orphan from the stage." He stated, "Flossie, told me she put you up for the night."

Squaring my shoulders, I said, "I'm looking for a job."

He gave me the once over appraising my `credentials'. "Flossie says you don't take to men paying for your ... ahh ... favors."

"Mr. Kutz, I'm desperate, but not that desperate, at least not yet."

"Well, I can always use a pretty face around here. Since you won't be working the upstairs for me, I'll expect you to do a little extra around this place. You can see it ain't the cleanest of establishments. There's a bucket and mop in the storeroom. You can start by scrubbin' this here floor. When she gets up have Flossie find you something to wear for tonight. The way you're dressed, you look like you're ready for Sunday meeting, and that don't bring in business."

Lifting my chin a little I replied. "Fine, I'll get started as soon as I return from my walk, I've a little shopping that needs doing." I turned to leave, wanting fresh air and freedom more than anything at that moment.

Kutz stopped me, "What's your name puss?" he asked.

The word puss was like a slap to the face, but I didn't let him see the sting. "Adams." I replied, taking pride in the name. "My name is Cassandra Adams."

"Well, Miss Cassandra Adams, just remember who's the boss around here, and we'll get along just fine."

Dust devils inspired by cool northerly winds swirled through the streets of the cow town. I could taste the dirt and feel the grit against my skin as I stood outside the swinging doors of the Trails End.

Rubicon, Texas was alive with sights, sounds and smells. The boardwalk was crowded with farmers and ranchers as they went about their early morning business. A school bell rang in the distance announcing the start of classes for the day. The squeak of a peddler's wagon kept time with his song as he made the rounds dealing fresh milk and eggs. The echo of the blacksmith's hammer ringing against an anvil reverberated up and down the busy main street.

I inhaled deeply, a whiff of coffee and bacon reached my nostrils tempting my empty stomach and pulling me toward the source of the aroma.

A small restaurant was wedged between the General Store and the barber shop called Mrs. Webster's Dining Hall. Clean windows draped with blue checked curtains greeted her customers. Holding a silver dollar in my hand I debated the expense. I thought of my day ahead and decided a good meal would be a worthwhile investment.

The place was noisy with talk, plate clatter and silverware clanging. My mouth watered as I savored the air, it smelled delicious. All the tables were filled except for a small one in the corner. I sashayed to the table and slid into the chair. I didn't give the waiter a chance to say a word when he came for my order.

"Steak, eggs, flapjacks and the biggest cup of coffee you can find." I requested.

The meal was being served when a man walked though the door.

If it was habit or a coincidence, the gleam of shined tin caught my eye. The man wearing the badge moved with the surety of one who had worn it for years and was not intimidated by the weight of his duty. He was older, late forties at least, but he walked despite his limp, like a man half his age. His tanned skin was weathered as though he had spent too many days in the hot Texas sun on the trail tracking outlaws. I figured that is how Matt would look if his luck held and he lived that long. The thought of Matt gave my heart apull.

The lawman scanned the room, than moved in my direction. He stopped short when he saw me; there was a surprised expression on his face. For a moment I was afraid he had recognized my picture from some wanted poster, but he smiled.

Timidly, I returned the look, then bent my head down and concentrated on my breakfast.

"Excuse me ma'am, I don't mean to be forward but this is usually my spot. You see being a lawman I like to sit where I be getting a good view of all that's going on. Would you mind if I joined you?"

With my mouth full of flapjacks I shook my head and motioned to the empty chair. My body responded to his presence with a keen awareness. I surveyed his finely chiseled features from the cover of my coffee cup. His eyes were hazel, with warm flecks of gold that seemed to give them an extra sparkle. He was taller than most men, with dark wavy hair, graying at the temples. I noticed all these things in a matter of seconds.

He pulled out the chair and sat adjusting his holster and stretching his left leg. He gave his knee an absent-minded rub, as though it were paining him some.

The busy waiter glanced at our table catching the lawman's attention, "The usual Sheriff?" he asked.

The lawman nodded than turned to me. "You're new around here." He stated.

"Yes," I answered.

"Where're you from?" he asked.

"New Orleans." I replied not really lying.

"What brings you to Rubicon?"

"My friend, Flossie Miller lives here."

"Oh." He smiled with a world wise look. "Looking for a little adventure in the wild west before you settle down to a husband and kids?"

"Something like that." I replied.

With a self-conscious chuckle, he said, "Guess I don't have the manners my Ma taught me." Pressing his palms against the table he raised himself to his feet and offered his hand across the table.

"The name be Gabriel Maxwell; I wear the badge around Rubicon."

Hastily I wiped my hand on the napkin before I accepted his warm shake. "Cassie Adams." I replied.

His words game out a curious blend of cowboy drawl and Irish brogue, "Nice to be making your acquaintance, Miss Adams."

"And yours Sheriff Maxwell."

"Call me Gabe, Sheriff Maxwell makes me sound like a stiff old fogy, course there be no denying that's what I am – old that is, especially compared to one so young as you." The waiter served his coffee, and Gabe took a drink. "Ah." He said, "nothing like that first cup of Arbuckle's to put a little hair on a man's chest." He studied me for a bit. "Say," he asked, "Were you on the stage that came in last night?"

I nodded, afraid to give the lawman too much information.

"It's a mighty fine thing Parm Harris was on that stage . . . he be a good man to have around when there's trouble."

"There was some talk at the Trails End last night that it was the Spencer Gang." I ventured.

"Tis possible, Verdon Spencer has been causing trouble for the last five years. Problem is I can't pin anything on him for sure. What people around here don't understand is you need proof to arrest someone – can't ever catch that crafty fool red handed, and he's not apt to be leaving no witnesses."

"They killed that boy . . . it's not right if they get away with that."

"No ma'am it ain't. But, I'm mighty thankful they didn't harm you none. Why you make this here cow town shine like a new penny with your smile."

Our meal passed enjoyably as we left unpleasant topics behind. Gabe entertained me with stories of Rubicon and its residents. I soon forgot he was the law and I was the face on a wanted poster as I was caught in the humor of his tales.

Leaning across the table he whispered in a conspiratorial tone," See that old varmint sitting across the way?" I turned around and saw a scrawny mustached man in his sixties sitting at a table alone. His head rested in his hands as he gazed at me with a decided twinkle in his eyes. I smiled at him and he raised a hand to give me a five finger wave. "That's old Georgie Potter, there's a young Georgie too. Although the boy ain't nearly as sharp as his Pa, some say young Georgie's a tad half-witted, I'm thinkin he just doesn'thave the spark of his Pa, and it makes him look a bit dull by comparison. Now being a pretty lady and a friend of Flossie's to boot, you should be knowing something of Old Georgie."

I gave him half a smile as I tried to imagine any connection between my beautiful friend and this old man. I raised my eyebrows and asked, "Flossie and Old Georgie?"

"Yup, Miss Flossie spends a few nights a week with the ol' boy. Now there is some guesswork going on as to their ummm, shall we say friendship. It be common knowledge she receives the usual gratuity for her demonstrations of affection. But, it's my belief Georgie enjoys the speculation, you see he considers himself a lady's man, despite the fact he lost a leg in the Mexican conflict years back."

"He lost a leg?" I could see one leg was straight, like Chester's while the other was bent at the knee.

"Yeah, got himself a wood leg. Well I just thought you should be knowing, he's harmless, and a real character. And sure as shootin he'll be hanging around you like an old bear to a honey tree."

I glanced back at Georgie. He gave me a double eyebrow raise and a wink. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud as I waved back.

Gabe held up a hand as a shield and pointed with the other to an attractively plump woman in her middle forties, stiffly corseted and primly dressed. "Now, over to the left is the Widow Sasse, she be an independent business woman, runs a boarding house. Folks say it's respectable like, but I be letting you in on a secret, I've been called there a number of times to break up wild poker games in her kitchen. You see she, Georgie's wife Irmagaard, and the preacher's wife, Mrs. Reverend Winkler like to play at the devil's game and sip a little spirited brew."

This time I did laugh out loud, and earned a scowl from the Widow who was watching me with an eagle eye, for my indiscretion. I was disappointed when the Sheriff stood up and said. "Well I'd best be about my business, folks around here find enough reason to doubt my abilities without letting them see me wile away the morning in the company of a pretty girl." He tipped his hat to me and again to the Widow Sasse as he walked by her table. I watched him leave and felt lonely for the loss.

Finishing my coffee, I called the waiter over for my bill. "It's been taken care of Miss, compliments of Sheriff Maxwell." I thanked the waiter and left the restaurant, whether it was wise or not, I had made another friend in Rubicon.

The clerk at the General Store was busy, giving me the opportunity to explore his merchandise. I took my time bent on getting the most for my money and deliberating carefully over even the smallest of purchases. When I left the store, my arms were piled high with brown paper packages. I had little over half my money left, but, I would have two simple cotton dresses to wear, undergarments, sheeting, and fabric to make a curtain for my window and a cushion for a chair. That is if I could find a chair.

Anticipating my return, Ferd had taken the broom, mops and pails from the storeroom.

They were sitting in the center of the bar room floor. Leaning against the bar with his arms crossed over his flabby belly he said, "Bout time you got back puss, I was about to rent out your room . . . "

I stepped around the pail, "Like I said, I had some shopping that needed doing."

"Got lots of money for an orphan . . . maybe Parm gave you a little spending money for your friendship on the stage ride."

I ignored his intimation, "I'll change, and put my packages away . . . then I'll take care of this." I said with a sweeping movement of my hand.

Kutz grunted and turned around to face the bar and a ledger book in front of him. He grunted again, wet his pencil on his tongue and began working the numbers. Throughout the next couple hours while I mucked out the saloon, Ferd tried to make sense of his bookkeeping. Despite my hard work I took enjoyment in watching him struggle with the numbers.

"You know," I offered at one point, "I might be more help to you if you'd let me do your books. I've got a good mind for numbers"

With a look of arrogant disdain he said, "Only two things a puss is good for . . . and you're doing one of em now, and refusing to do the other later."

I bit my tongue, reminding myself how much I needed a job and a place to sleep. I balled my hands into a fist and counted to ten, a trick I'd heard was a cure for a fast temper. When I had myself under control, I finished my job and left Mr. Kutz to his numbers.

By late afternoon I had cleaned both the saloon floor and scrubbed my room from top to bottom. My hands were red and raw from the strong lye soap. My back was in need of a good massage and I had the beginnings of a headache. But, my living quarters were clean.

I glanced at the cot upon which lay my dress for the evening. The faded blue garment was far from new, and carried the odor of the previous owners with it. It was a strapless gown supported in the bodice by severe stays. The hem traveled to just below my knees. To my mind it exposed too much bosom and too much leg. I figured with the cold night air blowing through the saloon doors I would be in danger of catching pneumonia unless I drummed up enough whisky sales to warm my insides.

Placed next to the dress was a pair of scuffed dancing slippers. The heels were uneven and they smelled like they had taken a trip around one too many dance floors. Just looking at them made my feet hurt.

Reverently, I opened the tin containing my newly purchased lavender soap. It was a luxury item that had cost far more than I could afford to spend. But it smelled like heaven, and I sorely needed a whiff of paradise at this point. My bath was a bucket of cold well water. The thought of soaking in a real tub was never far from my mind as I soaped up and rinsed off standing in front of my washstand. I struggled into my costume, carefully applied my face paint and regarded the finished product as acceptable.

Business was picking up as I entered the main room. I caught sight of Flossie and she motioned me to her side.

"You clean up right well Sweetie." She praised. "You and I make quite a picture - my blond hair and your black."

"Too bad we can't sing . . . we could put together a stage act." I joked.

Flossie was just about to answer me when I saw her take a quick breath and hold it; she was looking in the direction of the doorway. I followed her stare. Parm Harris had entered the saloon. Flossie quickly recovered her senses and turned to me acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. But I knew, intuitively, I knew, as one woman understands the inner workings of another.

With a smile pasted in place she said, "Sweetie with our looks, voices don't matter."

Parm paused briefly to exchange greetings with his friends, before making his way through the crowded saloon, until he was standing in front of us. A lazy smile raised the contours of his lips and crinkled his eyes, "Well, I see you do have the right tools for this job Miss Adams." His eyes lingered at the top of my dress for a moment longer than might be considered polite and I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

"What can I get you Parm?" Flossie asked eagerly.

"Flossie, I think I'll just sit for a spell with Cassie maybe you could bring a bottle of house rye to the corner table." Turning to me he questioned, "That is of course if it's alright with you?"

The hurt in Flossie's eyes lasted for just a flash before it was replaced by her usual good grace, "Sure, I'll be right back."

Pressing the palm of his hand familiarly on my lower back, he guided me to the corner table and pulled out a chair for me.

"Thank you." I said.

"A man don't need thanks for treating a woman like a lady."

Flossie arrived with the drinks took Parm's money and left. "If you're talking about a real lady, you couldn't find a finer one than Flossie." I told Parm.

"I ain't sitting here to talk about Flossie, I want to talk about you . . . Have you gotten yourself settled in?"

He was a nice man even if he was preoccupied with my chest "Yes, I have a job and a place to sleep, a girl couldn't ask for more."

"Oh Miss Cassie, I have a feeling you were meant for much more than that. A man can't help but want to give you the world."

I smiled, reaching over to pat his hand, "Parm, it hasn't happened yet, and I'm not holding my breath until it does."

This talk was making me nervous and I figured I'd best change the subject before Parm tried to take me to places I had no intention of going. "Did you see Lou Jenkins' father last night?" I asked.

Parm nodded his head, drained his whiskey glass, and took a cigar from his vest pocket, "Mind if I smoke?" he asked.

"No." I replied waiting for the answer to my question.

Harris inhaled a long drag on the cigar than turned his head to blow the smoke away from my face before answering, "Big Lou took it mighty hard . . . blamed Gabe Maxwell for not doing more to clean up the territory."

"I met Sheriff Maxwell today." I said.

"Maxwell's a good man, takes his job serious like, always has. But, he's just one man. Folks don't see that though. They figure he's paid to keep the law and he'd damn well better do it. But when it comes to some of them standing ground with Gabe, well . . .them with the biggest mouths seem to be the fastest at up and high tailing it outa here."

I knew enough about lawmen to understand what Parm was telling me. "Has anyone thought of calling in a Federal Marshal to help the Sheriff?"

"Folks around here don't take to the Government getting involved' if they did I reckon they'd call in the Texas Police."

"The Texas Police?" I questioned. "I've never heard of them."

"They're a product of reconstruction, there are them who say they ain't much better than the outlaws they're supposed to protect folks against. No, we don't need no government law to help around here. Hell, we don't even trust our own."

Parm glanced to the balcony above us, with a decided twinkle in his eye he asked, "So what room did Ferdinand give you?"

"Mr. Harris," I replied, "I thought I made it clear, I sell whiskey and beer, nothing else."

He threw back his head and laughed, "Can't blame a man for trying."

It was well after midnight when the last drunken trail hand was ushered from the saloon. The floor I had so diligently swept and scrubbed that morning had returned to its original state. I was tired and smelled of sweat and beer. My feet were blistered from the second-hand shoes and my ribs ached from the pressure of the tight stays.

From up above the last of the visitors could be heard `enjoying' the company of their chosen lady.

Ferd scowled at me. "You can put the chairs on the tables before you go to bed puss." He said.

It had been a long day and I'd had about as much of Ferd Kutz as I could handle. But, I gritted my teeth and did what he ordered, figuring it would be that much less I would have to do in the morning.

My room was cold, and I yearned for strong arms and a gentle hand to warm my bed. In my moment of weakness I let my mind travel to those nights in Dodge when I was loved so completely. Like saying `Amen' to an evening prayer, the final words from my lips that night were, "Oh Matt."


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Name is Dillon, Matt Dillon. I was a United States Marshal in Dodge City, Kansas from 1866 to 1885. I used to set my thoughts to words; that was back when I first pinned on the badge. I guess you'd call it a journal. I'd stand out on boot hill lookin' over Dodge City and the words would just come. I'd think about the hard life of the frontier; how the prairie seemed to suck the life and goodness out of folks and it would ease the pain I felt at being only one man trying to change things. Somewhere along the line, I lost the need to put to paper what I was seeing and doing. Since then, I haven't been much for words. Don't see the need to rehash the past, what's done is done, can't change it. But, since Kitty insists, and I never could refuse her once she set her mind to changing my opinion, I will do my best to recollect what I was thinking and what I was doing back in those Rubicon days.

I missed her; I'd been on the trail three weeks, with the prospect of another three looming in front of me. The long hard days, ended in cold friendless nights warmed only by thoughts of home. Funny thing was I'd never linked the word home to Dodge City before. What surprised me the most was it wasn't just the physical contact I longed for but the connection of heart. This idea was new to me. Until then I had not looked beyond the needs of the flesh to the needs of the spirit. I needed her. I hadn't needed anyone since I'd been old enough to take care of myself. But I needed Kitty Russell. This line of thought was at direct opposition to a stand I had sworn to take. I was a lawman, and the moment I pinned a badge to my chest I'd lost any right to thoughts of heart and home. Any vows of commitment I'd made had been to the star I wore and the duty it represented.

The badge was no friend of mine that night, I had received a directive from Washington to track down the Sharlow gang; my search was limited to the north-western quadrant of Kansas. Although, I had no doubt Old Man Sharlow and his boys were somewhere near the Missouri border. As far as I was concerned this was nothing more than a bureaucratic goose chase.

The last of the embers had died out and the only light on that starless night was coming from the hazy glow of a cloud shrouded moon. I lay on my bedroll, my hat over my eyes, half asleep, yet aware of my horse and the usual night sounds of the open prairie.

I was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness when my horse nickered forcing me into full consciousness once again. The big animal stomped his foot and nickered again. Someone was coming. I felt the vibration of hoof against sod before I actually heard what my horse was responding to. Beneath the wool blanket, which provided my cover, I inched my hand along the cold steel shaft of my revolver until my finger rested against the trigger.

The lone rider dismounted and I listened as his uneven footsteps neared, when he was what I reckoned to be five feet away I said, "That's far enough, stranger." The click as I cocked the hammer on my pistol was an ominous echo in the dark.

"Mr. Dillon, don't shoot, it's me Chester." I jumped to my feet at the sound of my friend's voice.

"What's wrong?" I asked knowing only big trouble would bring Chester searching me out on the frontier alone.

He was out of breath from both effort and fretting and the high pitch whine of his voice reflected his worry, "They're fixing to hang Miss Kitty."


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

Rats will eat at anything, even my soaps and candles had to be kept in a tin or my room companions would consume them. Their droppings dirtied my floor while I slept, and I quickly learned to watch my first morning step. The room itself lacked four solid walls, and cracks and openings in the foundation gave the rodents free entry. One of my first tasks was to fill in the holes with a mixture of clay and mud, thus eliminating any new four legged invaders. Scorpions and other crawling things inhabited the night and had it not been for my exhaustion at the end of a day's work, I would have spent the night in watchful guard.

Along with Flossie and myself there were two other girls working for Ferd. Wilma was older, near forty from the looks of her. Her features were hard and her face was etched by age and dirt. Bathing was a luxury at the Trails End, but we all had access to soap and water and I figured the days grime at least could be washed from her face. Loretta was some younger than Wilma. Her features were attractive. She had a good figure and hair the color of mine before I'd left Dodge. She was closer to the age of Flossie and me, but I sensed a mean streak in her, that made me want to avoid her at all cost. My friend confirmed my intuition. "Don't cross her Sweetie. She's got Satan listed as her next of kin."

The pay I received for a week's work was barely enough to take care of my daily needs let alone save for some hope of a future. But I kept reminding myself that as bad as the Trails End was I could think of another place even worse, and that was swinging at the end of that noose back in Dodge City.

By the end of the first week I'd worked my way into the routine of the Trails End patrons. Old Georgie paid me special court, and I suspected he had two timing Flossie on his mind, if I'd given him the slightest encouragement. He delighted in telling off color jokes, and I was amazed that he was able to come up with a new yarn every day.

Gabe was a regular customer and always stopped by before he made his final rounds for the night. It wasn't long before his visits became the bright spot in my day. He'd make a point of buying me a drink and chatting for a spell. Surprisingly, he wasn't a drinking man, and never ordered anything stronger than a sarsaparilla for himself. "You watch your step now Cassie girl." He warned one night before leaving.

"Don't worry about me." I countered for despite his good nature, he was not a popular man in the town of Rubicon; "It's your own back you should be keeping an eye on lawman."

The sheriff laughed at me, "You think lawmen are born with eyes in rear of their heads girl?"

My thoughts strayed to Matt Dillon, and I had to swallow hard before I replied, "They ought to be Sheriff."

Parm Harris was a frequent customer of the saloon too, although his visits came less often then the sheriff's. It hadn't taken me long to I noticed how Flossie would drop what ever she was doing to wait on the rancher. For his part, Parm seemed mostly indifferent to her. Flossie was a beautiful woman, not even life in a godforsaken cattle town in Texas could change that. But, Parm made a point of avoiding her. I couldn't help but wonder why.

It was on a Sunday morning as Flossie helped me color my red roots in the back room of the saloon that I ventured to ask the question on my mind. "What's between the two of you?"

"Me and Parm?" She asked in surprise. "What do you mean Sweetie? Don't you know I'm not tied to any man, other than Ol' Georgie?"

"You know what I mean. You practically trip over your feet when he comes in the saloon door, and he ignores you. Now, I know men, know them pretty damn well. There isn't a true man in all of Texas who'd purposefully ignore a woman as beautiful as you. That is unless Parm isn't all man."

My remark earned me a shower of cold water, from which I came up sputtering. "Oh he's all man Kitty." Offering me a towel, she added, "I can guarantee he's most certainly all man."

Sunday was a day of rest at the Trails End. As a rule the girls spent the day catching up on sleep lost during the long work week. But, there was warmth and sunshine in the air and the thought of crawling back into my dark little room to dry my hair was less than appealing. Instead I braided my damp hair into a single plait and then went to sit on one of the benches outside the closed saloon.

I hadn't been sitting for very long before I saw Gabe and Parm approaching from opposite directions. Both men carried picnic baskets and were ambling toward me at a leisurely pace, until they spied one another. I watched, as it became a foot race to see who would reach me first, the out come of the contest was a tie, the winner still to be determined.

"Miss Cassie…" Parm started.

"Cassie Girl …" Gabe said at the same time.

I had to laugh at both of them. "Good grief!" I exclaimed. "Is there a church picnic going on today?"

They replied to my query in unison, the summation of which was an invitation to enjoy the spring weather and a basket lunch. I thought of Flossie and replied with what I hoped was a coy smile. "Gentlemen, I thank you. Let me get Flossie and we'll both join you."

There was hopeful excitement in Flossie's voice; "Parm is here to take me on a picnic?"

"Parm and Gabe," I replied. "Come on, they're waiting."

She threw her hands up, "Oh Christopher Columbus Kitty, I've got to change. My hair is a mess; it'll take me an hour, maybe longer to get presentable."

"Flossie, you've got ten minutes."

An hour later we were spreading our picnic blankets along the banks of the Rubicon River. It was spring and there was no denying it. Where only two weeks before the land had been brown and barren now there was new life all around us. Blue Bonnets were blossoming along the river's sandy shoreline. In the meadow budding prairie flowers resembled a brightly colored tapestry of the reds, yellows and the oranges of Indian Blanket and Indian Paint brush. The deep blue sky was alive with the songs of Golden Cheeked Warblers nesting in the birch and aspen, which grew in clumps near the water'sedge. Sweet too, were the scents that filled my nostrils with each gust of the warm gentle breezes.

I had walked away from the rest of them mesmerized by the difference two weeks and this pleasant valley could make in the Texas landscape. Gabe came up behind me, "Mind if I join you lass?" he he asked. I turned around and replied with a smile. "It sure is pretty out here. I'd forgotten how much I miss seeing green grass and flowers."

Gabe nodded in agreement, "It puts me to mind how the Garden of Eden must have been. This here is a special place for me. I'm glad you be liking it too girl."

"Thank you Gabe."

"For what?"

"Thank you for bringing me here." I looped my arm in his and after a moment said, "I haven't seen you around the Trails End the last few nights."

"That's the trouble with this job of mine. Every once in a while I've got to earn my pay."

"Oh? Were you tracking down Verdon Spencer?" I asked.

"Spencer ain't a hard one to find, he and his men hole up in the Black Mesa country, perfect spot for the likes of them. From their `Nest' they can see for miles around. No, I wasn't tracking them down, but they were the reason I was gone. I got word a packtrain hauling rifles and other supplies to Fort McCoy was held up. I figured we'd be seeing War Hawk and his band of renegades sporting new weapons."

"I don't understand, do you think War Hawk is responsible or Spencer?"

"Spencer." He replied.

"Ahhh, I see, you think Spencer's men held up the army wagon and sold the guns to the Indians? Why would they do that, surely they could get a better price than what the Indians could pay."

"Spencer ain't what you'd call friendly like to blue coats; you see he and his men wore the Confederate gray in the War Between the States. War Hawk is of like mind; that is not being on the best of terms with the US Cavalry. Verdon Spencer wants to make sure them renegades stay on his side of the fence, unloading a wagon of army trinkets in the chief's lap is a guarantee of that. He don't want a cash payment for the goods. There be other ways to settle a debt Cassie Girl. I paid a little visit to the chief's camp. I tried to convince him it would be in his best interest and that of his people to steer clear of Spencer and those Army rifles. "

"Do you think he listened to you?"

Gabe shook his head, "Time will tell Lass, but I'm not making any bets on it."

He gave me a gentle poke to the ribs and pointed to Flossie and Parm who were talking under the boughs of a blossoming apple tree. We watched as Parm plucked a flower and placed it in Flossie's hair. "I can't for the life of me figure those two out. There was a time they were closer than two peas in a pod. Something happened to scare Parm off, I'm guessing," Gabe said. "I reckon some folks are afraid to follow their heart."

Those were strange words to hear from a lawman's lips, and I stared at him wondering what prompted his thinking before asking, "Are you afraid to follow your heart Sheriff?"

"I'm thinking a feller is always a little afraid of something he don't be knowing nothing about."

"That wasn't an answer Gabe."

"Tis all the answer you'll be getting out of the likes of me Cassie Girl."

**GS GS GS GS**

I'd been in town three weeks when I met Verdon Spencer. It was closing time, Flossie and Old Georgie had already gone to bed, and the other girls were entertaining in their rooms. It was just Ferd and I in the main saloon, he struggling over his bookwork and I getting a head start on my morning's chores. I had just put the last chair atop the final table when the doors to the saloon swung open.

A large man of undetermined age was standing at the threshold. His face was framed by a mangy beard the color of dirty snow, his cheeks and forehead were tanned brown and weathered like a piece of old leather. He wore a black and white spotted cowhide vest, and carried a pair of six-shooters strapped to his hips.

Ferd, not bothering to look up from his ledger work, said, "Go away we're closed."

The man at the door way grunted. "I'd be careful who you send a way Kutz."

His pencil clattered to the bar as Ferd looked up at the sound of the voice. "Mr. Sp-Spencer," he stuttered. "Of course you're welcomed here. Come in, Come in. You puss, take a chair down for Mr. Spencer." Ferd motioned nervously to me and I did as he ordered without question.

"What's your pleasure Mr. Spencer?" Ferd continued. "It's on the house. Whatever you want, just name it."

With out much grace he plopped himself in the chair, "A couple glasses and a bottle of your best whiskey, will do for a start."

Ferd gave me a warning look as he set up the tray and handed it to me.

"Bring it over here and be quick about it Little Missy."

My nose curled up in disgust as I placed the tray in front of him. He smelled. It was the stomach-churning stink of someone who never washed. I made a move away from him, but he grabbed my wrist before I was able to escape. "Sit down and pour." I did as he commanded filling one of the glasses to the brim. He nodded at the empty one. "What's the matter Missy, think you're too good to be drinking with Verdon Spencer?" He squeezed tighter, making my fingers tingle with pain. I looked into his eyes and saw the ugly truth.

It scared me for I had no doubt Spencer had more in mind than sharing a bottle of cheap whiskey with me. His eyes rested on my exposed bosom, as he wet his lips. I made a move to pull away from him. "Look." I said, "You got your whiskey, that's all I'm selling."

"I ain't buying Missy, didn't you hear old Ferd? It's all on the house." He jerked my arm forcing me onto his lap. With one hand he pinned my arms behind my back while his other started working its way up my leg, my struggle only increased his access to my body. I screamed for help, but my cry was muffled as his foul smelling mouth covered mine.

I thought for sure he was going to take me right there in the saloon room with Ferd standing watch. I closed my eyes tight willing my mind to another place, even as his calloused hands ripped at the bodice of my gown.

"Get your hands off my woman!" A familiar voice boomed from the batwing doors. "Or I'll be taking great pleasure in decorating the floor with your remains!" At the sound of the lawman's voice Spencer stood up causing me to tumble from his lap to the floor.

My attacker's voice changed in tone and demeanor from the aggressor to victim. "Why Gabriel had I known this little Missy was yours I'd never a touched a hair on her head."

Sheriff Maxwell directed his remarks to me. "Get up off that floor Cassie Girl and take to your room, I'll be visiting you directly."

I scrambled from the floor and ran out of the room slamming doors as I escaped. Once inside my room I leaned against the pine wood door trying to catch my breath. Two doors and a hallway separated me from the main room of the saloon but I could still hear the voices of Gabe and Spencer although I couldn't make out the words.

I was confused, was the town talk correct, was Gabe really in cahoots with the outlaw? This didn't make any sense. More confusing still was the Sheriff claiming me as his woman.

My exhaustion was both emotional and physical and the strain pulled tight against my nerves. The only light in the narrow room came from the moonbeams filtering through the cheap muslin curtains. When my heart rate had reached a degree of normalcy I moved from the door and made my cautious way to the rickety table beside my bed. There atop the rough surface, I kept the tin containing my candle and matches. I lit the wick surprised to see despite my shaky emotions my hand held steady. I glanced at the cracked mirror hanging over the table. After the day I'd been through I expected to see an old woman's reflection staring back. I was startled to see I much more resembled a scared little girl.

I changed from the saloon dress to a nightgown and pulled my hair free from its pins. I took some comfort in the feel of Bessie Roniger's brush in my hand. I brushed until my head hurt, and still I heard the voices coming from the front saloon. I was tempted to creep from my room to stand in the hallway just to hear what they were talking about. I reminded myself it was of no matter to me. My only concern was saving my own neck. Let Gabe Maxwell and Rubicon take care of themselves.

I must have fallen asleep for the next thing I knew Gabe was gently shaking me awake. "Cassie Girl, I need to be talking with you." I sat up with a start. Relief and gratefulness spurred my response. I threw my arms around the lawman's neck and pulled him close. His arms were tentative at first to return my embrace, as though he were weighing the wisdom of the union. It took a full beat before he did.

Like two lost spirits in search of a home, we remained locked together. It was Gabe who broke the bond. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. "This isn't the way it's going to be Lass. I've a job I must be doing."

The chill of the night air rushed over me. I grieved for the loss of physical contact with a living soul. I shivered with the cold of the words I'd heard repeated by another man standing behind a badge. I'd been a fool before, but I'd never be again. I had no room in my heart for lawmen, especially those who sided with a renegade like Verdon Spencer. I took aim with my words, "Is that what you were doing out there, making plans for a job with a killer."

He flinched and I knew I'd hit my mark, "I was doing what this badge of mine tells me to do."

I squared my shoulders, and spoke with haughty conviction, "Then you should have arrested him, you said yourself you knew he was an outlaw. Isn't that what that badge tells you to do? Keep the law?"

"No Cassie girl, this badge is for keeping the peace. I'm only one man. There's no way I could be keeping the lid on this town if I arrested Verdon Spencer. His men would come into Rubicon and burn it to the ground."

"That's not true, Parm Harris would stand behind you, and there are others too, I know it."

"Sure there are, girl and they'd be killed for the effort. Ed Jenkins has already lost a son, how can I ask him to be risking more? Buck and Charlie, they got families depending on them; Parm's little girls lost their Ma, they can't lose him too. Cassie I'm telling you it's not worth the gamble. It's not worth seeing good men die. Now, I've got something that needs to be discussed with you, but I can see this isn't the right time. Get yourself a goodnight's sleep; things will look clearer in the morning."

He made a move to kiss my forehead, but then thought better of it. He straightened his spine and our eyes locked. I tried to read his thoughts as I'd tried so many times with Matt, but I could not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five (Matt)**

A wayward tumbleweed was the only thing moving on the streets of Dodge City as Chester and I rode into town three nights later. We were surrounded by an eerie quiet that reminded me of a ghost town I'd passed through a few years back. A scaffolding platform was set up near the center of town to form a gallows, and swinging freely in the night air was a hangman's noose. I guided my horse to the base of the structure pulling him to a stop so I could stare at the empty rope. It represented hope that Kitty was still alive for it remained intact.

I asked Chester to see to the horses while I went to talk with Doc Adams. Despite the late hour, the old man was still in his suit clothes; his breath smelled faintly of liquor and his face wore several days' worth of bearded stubble. He was glad to see me, or maybe just relieved. He told me how he had helped with Kitty's escape, and how Ray Barger had headed out after her the next day.

"Where did she go Doc?" I asked.

"I don't know Matt. I'll tell you this, Barger headed east, figuring Kitty would try to make it to the Mississippi."

I sat in Doc's chair, the one next to his desk; watching as he poured me a cup of coffee and handed me a piece of stale bread topped with farmer's cheese. I ate the food from need not desire. I had a long trail ahead of me, and I couldn't be sure of the directionI needed to take.

A thought was coming to me, a memory of a conversation I'd had with Kitty. "Rubicon is where I'd head", she'd told me once, "if I was ever in trouble. My friend Flossie and I made a pact when we were just girls; we'd be there for the other if we ever needed help."

I explained my hunch to Doc, and I stood ready to take my leave but hesitated, "Doc you can do something for me while I'm gone."

"Good heavens Matt, if it will help Kitty anything."

"I'd like you to send off a few telegrams, find out what ever you can about Ray Barger." I grabbed a piece of paper from the old man's desk and a pencil from the holder and scribbled down names and cities, "Something tells me there's more to this than he let on."

With a fresh horse and supplies I headed out the next morning, taking the southern trail past the Vinegarroon turnoff.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX **(Kitty)

Morning came much too quickly, my body craved sleep, but the banging on the door and the sound of Ferd Kutz's voice denied me the pleasure. "Get outa bed puss, there's work to be done."

"Keep your shirt on, I'm getting up." I hollered back. I washed the best I could and dressed for my cleaning duties. My saloon dress still lay on the floor from the night before; I bent to pick it up. It was ripped beyond my abilities to repair, and I wondered if Flossie would be able to find me a replacement.

Out in the bar room Kutz gave me the once over, "If the badge is paying you for your affections, I'm entitled to a cut, puss. After all I done fer you, you'd better not be holdin' out on me."

I had reached the limit with my employer, "You're crazy. There's nothing going on between me and Sheriff Maxwell, and as for what you've done for me, you nearly got me raped last night you bastard."

"You watch your tongue, or you'll be out on the street."

"You throw me out on the street fat man, and whose gonna slop your saloon and sell your whiskey?"

"There ain't no shortage of puss, ain't none at all, I could replace the likes of you with a snap of my fingers, and I'd not have to pay for charity work"

My anger had been stewing since the first night I'd met Ferd Kutz, now it had reached the boiling point. I threw my mop to the floor and stomped over to him. Grabbing the front of his shirt in my fist I pulled him face to face with me. "Listen you; I've had my fill of your foul stupid mouth. You may call me Miss Cassie or don't call me at all. And as for charity work…" I tightened my grip on his shirt giving it an extra jerk. I thought gleefully his eyeballs would pop out. "Mister, you don't know the first thing about charity."

"I'd say she's got you dead to rights Ferdinand." Gabe Maxwell had walked in the saloon unbeknownst to either of us. "Cassie girl, I'm thinking you can let Mr. Kutz go, I'd guess he's learned his lesson for the day. Besides I need to be talking with you."

The lawmen put an arm around my waist and lead me in the direction of my room, "Don't pay him no never mind." He said in a voice loud enough for my boss to hear. "Ol' Ferd would be a pissing in the wind if he thought it'd get him a free shower bath…"

Gabe stopped at the wood stove, which heated the room. A pot of coffee was brewing, using his handkerchief he grabbed the handle of the pot and filled two of the cups sitting on a nearby table. He called backward to Kutz. "Put it on my bar bill Ferd."

I held the doors open for him and followed him into my room. He set the cups on the table and nodded for me to have a drink. After he'd taken a sip he fidgeted for a few moments. He was uneasy and I wondered what it was he needed to say to me. Finally he took a big breath and began. "I get wanted posters every so often. Most times I don't pay them much mind. You already be knowing about how I feel when it comes to keeping the peace. Yesterday I got a poster that made me look twice. It's not often one comes through with the likeness of a pretty lady. It says, Kathleen "Kitty" Russell - Wanted Dead or Alive." He reached in the inside pocket of his vest and pulled out a sheet of paper which had been folded in fourths. He slowly unfurled it. "Says here, that she murdered a man in San Francisco, says, she be a red head." He licked his thumb, leaned closer, and then rubbed it across my coal darkened eyebrow. He stared for a moment at his blackened appendage.

I took the paper from his hand. "Five hundred dollar reward - a man could go far with that kind of money."

"I reckon so, Cassie girl." He replied putting emphasis on my alias.

"Are you here to arrest me Gabe?"

He smiled, "I don't guess most of us reach a point where there isn't something we've done we regret. I figure if you did kill a man, it was a man who needed killing. I just seen an example of your temper. It's powerful alright, but not of the murdering kind." He reached over and took the wanted poster from my hand, folded it and placed the paper back in his inside vest pocket.

"I want you to know I'll do my best to see that none of these posters get around. But like you said five hundred dollars could take a man a far piece. A man like Ferd Kutz would have no compunction against turning you in and taking the cash. If that happens girl, I'd be duty bound to arrest you."

I stood up and walked to my window tuning my back to Gabe Maxwell. He wasn't like any lawman I'd ever known. He wasn't as honest as Matt Dillon, nor was he as unscrupulous as Ray Barger. I didn't understand him, but I was thankful for his promise of protection. I wrapped my arms around myself trying to keep my emotions in check. "Thank you Gabe."

**SIX** (Matt)

At best the trail I'd been following was a cold one, at worst it was no trail at all. I tried to put my mind to the thoughts Kitty must have been thinking. I knew she had to be scared, I just hoped she wouldn't panic, and that she'd keep her head about her. I made my first camp along the banks of the Red Rock River, this far north it wasn't much more than a stream. As I washed up that night I spied a bottle half concealed in the brush. Curiosity made me free it from its hiding spot. The glass was dirty, like it'd been sitting there for a few weeks. The label was barely legible but I was able to make out the words," Madam Sophia's Hair Darkening Restorer." I laughed out loud, causing my horse to start and pull back on his hobble.

I moved to the animal to settle him down. Wrapping an arm around his neck, I scratched at the swirl between his eyes, "Easy there son." I told him, and knew I was speaking the words out loud in an effort to calm us both. We were on the right track. She was headed south, and I had no doubt now it was to Rubicon, Texas.

**GS GS GS**

I'd stopped at several way stations along the trail. Each time I'd left with no more information than I'd come with. I started to doubt myself and I wondered if I'd missed something along the trail. I worried; maybe she was hurt or had run into a blood thirstyband of renegades or the Spencer gang, which was said to control this area of north Texas.

I'd almost moved on past the weather beaten frame structure, with the crudely painted sign announcing the place as **Schaefer's Crossing—Stage Stop**. But, I noticed the corral was filled with a dusty team of sturdy draft horses and one vaguely familiar bedraggled gelding. I pulled my horse to a stop and moved in for a closer look. The gelding bore the Roniger Lucky Four brand. An older man stepped out from the barn to ask if I was waiting for the stage.

I shook my head no, "Name's Dillon, I'm a U.S. Marshal. I'm looking for some information." I pointed to the Roniger horse "How did you come by that animal?"

"Why, he just showed up one day; still had a bridle on him he did. I figured whoever belonged to him might show up, not that he's any prize. Say, is he your horse?"

"No, but I am looking for a lady who might have been riding him."

"Lady you say? Nope, he was all by his self. But now that you mention it a few days afore, this here gal come by looking fer a ride, walking she was … I thought her a might strange, she was a traveling as a feller you see. Odd thing too, her hair was coal black, but she had these here reddish like eyebrows. After she went in the house to clean up and have some of the old woman's sonovabitch stew I saw her again and those eyebrows were black. Is she a bad `en Marshal?"

I nodded my head, "She might be. Do you remember where she was heading?"

"Now, listen here I don't want no trouble, me and the old woman is just tryin' to live and let live; don't want no trouble with the law, and don't want no trouble from them what lives outside the law."

"I'm not here to give you any trouble; I just want to know what direction she was heading."

"Stage only goes north or south from this here spot. If I recollect right, she paid for a ticket to Rubicon."

I almost smiled when I asked, "That was how long ago?"

"I don't remember to the very date but I'd guess close to three weeks, maybe more."


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN **(Kitty)

My hands shook and my heart was racing. Thoughts were coming into my head so fast I could hardly sort them out. If Gabe had received a Wanted Poster with my name on it and made the connection to me, then it wouldn't be very long until someone else made the same connection. Five hundred dollars was enough to earn the attention of bounty hunters, but it was also enough to turn friends into would be enemies. It was time to move on, but in my panic I knew there was no place to move on to, at least no place where Iwould be safe from the rope.

Flossie was at the bar talking with Georgie when I came out from my room, she greeted me, "Morning Cassie, heard there was a little trouble out here last night."

Old Georgie gave me his familiar five finger wave then said with as much bravado as his little bandy rooster physique could garner, "Next time that happens, you just holler fer me. I'll protect you."

I mustered a smile for the old man, "Thanks Georgie, Flossie can I talk with you for a moment?"

"Sure Sweetie, Georgie's got to get home to Irmagaard anyway. She doesn't mind if I keep him here all night, but she hates for him to miss his morning chores."

With a sad nod Georgie confirmed Flossie's statement. He gave a peck to her flawless cheek. "See you beautiful."

I waited by the bar as they made their good-byes and then Flossie came to join me in my room. Even in my fear, I couldn't resist asking, "You never cease to amaze me, do you actually... Umm you know … with him?"

She chuckled, "I don't think he could if he wanted to Sweetie, I just give him a little affection, which is more than he gets from his battle axe of a wife. He's a nice old fellow, and it saves me from having to wrestle with some ol' cowpoke or worse."

Flossie noticed the anxiety on my face. "Kitty, what's wrong? It's more than that tangle with Verdon Spencer isn't it?"

"Gabe has a wanted poster with my name on it, he knows who I am."

"What's he going to do about it?"

"Nothing … or so he says."

She shrugged her shoulders than patted mine, "Well, than I wouldn't worry about it? Gabe is a man of his word."

"Flossie, I can't take a chance. I've got to get out of here."

"Kitty Russell, I can't think of any place where you'd be as safe. You've got friends here, friends who will protect you."

"Flossie, you don't understand … I had friends in Dodge too, and I was this close to hanging from the end of a noose."

"Sweetie, if there is one thing I've learned; don't do anything without giving it careful thought. You must realize you'd be in worse shape if you just up and leave; besides, you have an advantage over what happened in Dodge. You know they're after you now. You can be prepared, have a plan in place. What you need more than anything is money. Money will speak louder than that pretty face of yours, if you get in a tight spot."

"Flossie, I've barely enough money to get by on."

"Well, if worse comes to worse, I can lend you some. But it still won't be enough to get you too far, or buy your way out of a tight situation. Kitty, I know how you feel about selling your affections. But it is the one sure fire way to make money fast."

I honestly considered the idea for a moment; it sickened me. How could I sell my body? It was akin to selling a piece of my soul. I had so very little, but that was the one thing that was irrevocably mine. Maybe it was a strange attitude for one in my profession; it certainly was impractical, especially at the moment. "There's another way to make fast money." I said. "I haven't done it for a while, but I don't think I've lost the knack."

Flossie looked at me and a light came to her eyes and a smile spread across her face. "You were the best I ever saw, even though you were just a kid. You were a natural. You think you can get away with it here in Rubicon."

"Oh honey, Rubicon hasn't seen the likes of me before. I'll take `em by surprise, and I'll take `em all for a pretty penny or two!" Just as fast as my inspiration had come it was gone. "Ferd will never let me deal cards here. In his eyes the only thing I'm good for is slopping his floors and selling his beer, especially after I man handled him today."

Flossie thought for a moment while she fingered the golden curls which fell across her shoulders. "Not on his own, Miss Cassie, but suppose we set him up?"

"Set him up? What have you got on your mind?"

Her smile was confident as she tapped her chest for added emphasis, "Sweetie you just leave it all up to me and my friends."

**GS GS GS**

Flossie was able to find another dance hall costume for me to wear that night. I held the black gown in front of me and looked in my cracked mirror. The dress was longer than the first had been, going to mid calf in the front and sweeping to the floor in the back. I slipped out of my skirt and blouse and wiggled into the costume; it was skintight and had an attached outer skirt of red netting. A large red fabric rose was sewn at the center of the low cut bodice.

Grabbing the razor blade from my sewing kit I slit the thread holding the netting and rose in place. The simple change altered the look of the gown, transforming it to an almost exotic elegance and I was pleased with the result. I studied my hair, which was hanging loose. With both hands I ran my fingers through the black tresses sweeping it up off my neck and piling it high on my head holding it in place with combs and pins. Several strands curled freely around my face. I was generous with both powder and rouge going so far as to add a touch of talc to highlight my bosom. I used coal to darken my brows, and a paste of the same substance to blacken and lengthen my eyelashes. As an afterthought I picked up the satin rose and placed it behind my ear. I had to laugh at my reflection, Kitty Russell was gone, and Cassandra Adams now well and truly inhabited my body. The only thing I saw in mirror's image, which defined my true identity, was the black onyx locket hanging from my neck. The necklace and the gold earbobs were the only jewelry I had left and had been gifts of my most ardent admirer to mark a special occasion in our relationship.

The saloon was already packed when I made my entrance. There were the usual card games going on. Cowpokes in from the trail eager to add to their wages occupied tables with shopkeepers and businessmen. The games for the most part were played in good humor; it was only late in the night that the mood would change. With whiskey came mistrust, too many hands won by the same player and suspicions were aroused. I'd been brought up in gambling palaces and Mississippi River Boats. I'd learned my trade at an early age, I knew about Lady Luck but more importantly I understood the mind of men playing poker.

I stood for a moment at the bar giving the saloon a chance to notice me. I watched as faces turned and a hush came over the crowd. Seated at a table in the center of the room playing poker, were Ferd, Buck the stage driver, Parm Harris and Georgie. I smiled at them as I walked to their table and leaned over Georgie's shoulder, giving the rest of the occupants of the table an eyeful. "How are ya doing boys?" I asked.

"Why, just fine Miss Cassie. Say, but don't you look mighty fine tonight. Is this a special occasion or something?" Parm asked.

I smiled and opened my eyes extra wide, "It might be Parm." I glanced around the table to see who the big winner was. Ferd was doing well for himself I noted, as was Parm. My guess was Buck was breaking even and Georgie was down to a small stack of coins sitting in front of him.

The old man reached up and grabbed my hand bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Much as I'd like to stay, Miss Irmagaard has plans for me tonight. Seems she invited the parson over. I fear the worst. Say, Miss Cassie, why don't you finish out my run? You win,we split the profits, you lose, and you can buy me a beer." He released my hand and stood. With a flourish he pulled out the chair he'd been sitting on and motioned me to take a seat. "Fellas, I present you Miss Lady Luck may she shine on all of you tonight!"

Ferd made a move, "I ain't playin' poker with no puss."

Parm looked at the fat man and laughed. "Kutz, I believe you're afraid you'll lose to the pretty lady."

Buck winked at me then turned to the bar man, "What's wrong Ferd, ain't you got the balls to play poker with a gal?"

I wasn't above cheating. I considered it part of the skill of the game; it was the way I was schooled in the profession. But I never cheated friends, which meant I wouldn't have any problem seeing to it that Ferd had a deep run of bad luck. He owed me and as I saw it, this was a way to even up the score a bit. It wasn't long before the amount of winnings had exchanged size from his side of the table to mine.

Ferd began to drink heavily and his comments became cruder. Our table was drawing a crowd as the game turned into high entertainment.

**SEVEN** - (Matt)

I had ridden all day. Both my horse and I were dog-tired, but I had wanted to make Rubicon before dark. No such luck, I figured it to be going on midnight when I tied the buckskin to the hitching post outside the Rubicon Hotel. I stopped in front of the door to remove the badge from my chest. From this point on, I wasn't a lawman; I was just a man trying to save the woman he cares for. After securing a room for the night and making arrangements for someone to take the horse to the stable, I set out to find Kitty.

I stood on the boardwalk and surveyed the main road. The shops were closed and only a few lights burned from the residences above the stores. Gay music could be heard coming from the three saloons located on the street. The first saloon was a place called the Gray Dove. I glanced over the batwing doors and inspection the interior. Only half a dozen drunken cowpokes were in the place, so I knew Kitty wasn't working there. Kitty Russell would draw a crowd.

I continued down the boardwalk until I came to the Trails End. While still outside I heard the sound of Kitty's laughter and it burned like a light in my heart. I walked into the saloon. Spectators were gathered around a poker table in the middle of the room. I searched the crowd for Kitty; I strained my ears for the sound of her voice. A tall cowpoke stepped aside from the crowd revealing the back of a redheaded saloon girl watching the game. I moved to her and placed a hand on her bare arm. Lowering my head and voice I whispered in her ear, "I've been looking for you; I was beginning to think I'd never find you."

The face of a woman I'd never seen before looked up at me, "Well hi there big fella, my name's Loretta."

I immediately apologized, "Sorry ma'am, I thought you were a friend I haven't seen for a while."

"No need to apologize. Why don't you buy me a drink and I`ll be your friend too."

"Maybe later."

"Say? Does this friend of yours have red hair like mine?"

I nodded, forgetting for the moment the empty bottle of Madam Sophia's Hair Color Restorer in my saddlebag.

"Well then, she ain't here. I'm the only red head in these parts, so if you're partial to this here color hair, I'm your gal. Spend a little time with me, and I'll make you forget all about that other gal."

I heard the laugh again, and this time I identified its location. "Like I said," I replied hurriedly. "Maybe later."

I pushed through the crowd until I was standing over a bulky loud voiced man, with a bartender's apron tied over his ample frame. Directly across from the table was a dark haired beauty. She obviously had won the bartender's last penny, and he was not happy."Dirty puss cheats; you saw it didn't you Harris? She was dealing from the bottom of the deck. Why if I had a gun, I'd shoot her dead."

A well-built rancher to his right said, "Ferd you lost, fair and square, like you always do. Everyone in Rubicon knows you're a pisspoor poker player once you start hitting that bottle."

The woman gathered her winnings. "That's enough for me tonight gentlemen." She said in a familiar voice. I stared at her with new eyes, seeing now the black onyx locket nestled between her breasts. Observing too the gentle slope of her shoulders and the proud set of her slender neck. She stood, taking no notice of me. Pulling several dollars from her jackpot, she handed them to the defeated bartender and ordered, "Set up a round of beer on me Ferdie."

I couldn't hide the smile on my face. I had found Kitty Russell and she was alive and doing fine.


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT** Kitty

An unwritten rule of poker etiquette dictated I wait until I was in my room to count my winnings. I smiled as I stacked the bills in neat piles. The amount exceeded my expectations; Forty-six dollars! I was solvent, until I remembered I'd have to split the take with Georgie for financing my venture. Still $23.00 was a grand profit for a night's work. With what was left from my original stake and the meager earnings from my saloon work I had just under $40.00. I thought of my jewelry box and the tidy savings account I had back in Dodge. This was slim pickings by comparison.

I was too excited for sleep, but my sense of drama told me to go back on the saloon floor would ruin the scene I had so carefully set. Instead I pulled out my sewing basket and sitting cross-legged on my bed I began the task of fashioning makeshift pockets into the under linings of all of my clothes. Flossie was right. I did have an advantage over my life in Dodge. I knew they were looking for me now, and I'd never again be caught with my savings where I couldn't get at them.

I slept late the next morning for there was no rude pounding on my door and the sound of Ferd cursing me awake. By all appearances I had been elevated in status from mere saloon girl to professional card sharp.

"I expect you'll be dealing tonight." Kutz greeted when I stepped into the main room some time later that morning.

I placed my hands on my hips and squared my jaw, "I expect I will. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not so long as no one catches you cheating. Don't want no puss shot dead in my place. Bad for business you know."

I didn't confirm or deny his allegation. "I keep my profits, you benefit by the extra business I bring in." I said, articulating the standard contract between saloon owner and dealer.

"Humph!" Kutz grunted, "You still gotta earn your room, you'll be working two hours a night for me."

My room wasn't worth ten minutes work, but I was in no position to argue. I was sure from Ferdie's point of view he was being more than generous so I accepted his terms. "Fair deal." I replied.

**EIGHT** (Matt)

Texas was wild and untamed; and I'd always been proud to be a part of it. But, since the War of Northern Aggression, the wildness had turned violent. The conflict had made misfits and outlaws out of many a soldier, four years of fighting; starvation and death hardened a man's heart. With the end of the war many of the soldiers had returned to find hard times had taken a toll on their folks back home. Land that had once served cattle and crop was abandoned, as were the farmsteads that housed family and friends.

The only place these soldiers truly felt at home was with their wartime comrades. As a result, bands of former Confederate brigades roamed along the Red River and in the Big Thicket Country as far North as the Rubicon. There these outlaw rebel forces continued the trades they'd learned in the war of scavengers, and horse thieves.

Reconstruction had brought with it new politics. General George Armstrong Custer, who was stationed at Austin right after the war expressed the military view when he recommended that the army retain control of the state until the government was "satisfied that a loyal sentiment prevails in at least a majority of the inhabitants." But for a variety of reasons the army proved ineffective in bringing change to the state. The legislature passed a State Police Bill and established a militia, that didn't go over well with the local citizens, who often took the law into their own hands rather than call in the Texas Police. Everyone understood there was a problem, but no one had a handle on how to bring peace to the state.

I'd grown up in Texas, orphaned at an early age; neighbors cared me for until I was old enough to make it on my own. I spent my early teens drifting from ranch to ranch, punching cattle and working trail drives. Many of the cowpokes I worked with were cut from rough material, and I got myself in more than my share of trouble, and even spent a night or two in cow town jails.

It was at one of those jails that I made friends with a local lawman named Adam Kimbro. The seasoned sheriff took a liking to me, and gave me my first job as a lawman while I was still a wet nosed kid. Immediately I knew, I liked the weight of a badge on my chest; it felt good to know I stood for something.

**GS GS GS**

At sunup the following day, I stepped out the hotel and onto the boardwalk; from force of habit I surveyed the town. Things looked quiet. I saw a restaurant sign across the street and figured that to be the origin of the aroma of bacon and coffee. I nodded a good morning to a small group of cowboys gathered on the hotel porch.

"Lookee there, stranger," One of them said to me as he pointed to the north road heading out of town, with my eyes I followed the direction of his finger. Like a storm rolling in across the High Plains a dark cloud of dust was billowing in the sky growing larger by the second.

"Movin' too fast to be cattle," one of the men stated.

The dust rose up in swelling waves until it turned to a golden mist when it met with the early morning sky.

"Most likely soldiers from Fort McCoy."

"Yeah," another agreed, spitting a stream of tobacco juice a good ten feet before continuing, "them soldiers don't give a damn about horse flesh."

The hotel porch began to fill with curious observers who had noticed our neck craning and wandered over. The storm was audible now; the thunder of hoof beat matched with the rattle of wagon rigging and the snap of the driver's whip. The first of the six-horse hitch swept around the bend as a stagecoach rolled into town. There was the sound of women screaming as they gathered their children from the path of the runaway vehicle. A cowpoke, who had been leisurely riding through town, took note of the situation and raced ahead in an effort to slow the lead pair. They were finally brought to a stop not fifteen feet from us. The animals sides heaved, their eyes rolled and their coats lathered with sweat. Some had bleeding whiplashes across their rumps.

"What the hell happened Buck?" someone asked the driver as they helped him down.

It was a moment before Buck answered, and I could see from the looks of him he was mighty shaken. "Injun raid." He said in a breathless gasp. "Schaefer's crossing. I got Mr. Schaefer and the old woman in the stage. They've been rifle shot and scalped."

In the commotion I heard someone say, "Better get Sheriff Maxwell."

The lawman was part of the gathering mob, "No need for that Charlie, I'm right here. Buck, are you all right?" I looked across the crowd to determine the face of the speaker. The voice matched the image of a man I'd never expected to see again. Gabriel Maxwell scanned the crowd, his eyes briefly rested on me. I caught a glimmer of recognition before he said, "A couple of you boys get those poor souls over to Hermie Moser's. Buck you come with me; I'll be needing to hear what happened."

The driver was helped down from the stage. Maxwell wrapped a supporting arm around the dazed man and led him across the street to the Sheriff's office.

I gathered Hermie Moser to be the town undertaker, because after seeing the bodies of the man and his wife as they were lifted from the coach I knew it was too late for a doctor. I reached a hand in my pocket and ran my fingers over the badge I'd placed there. My sense of duty to that badge was strong and the pull on my conscience undeniable. Was my concern for Kitty stronger? I wasn't sure. I knew for the present I would let Gabe Maxwell play his hand. Still in shock at what I had witnessed I walked across the street, I needed a bracer but settled for breakfast. It wasn't that I was hungry, the sight of the murdered couple had taken my appetite away, but I needed the comfort of routine to get my mind back to working order. As I sipped at the steaming mug of coffee my thoughts traveled back in time.

Texas seceded from the Union in February 1861. Like a spreading prairie fire, the State was caught in the fervor of fighting for the cause. Rebel rousers preached their message with zeal from street corners, saloons and pulpits. New recruits were marched down the streets in their gray uniforms with buttons of gleaming gold. To a kid, barely nineteen, they seemed to shine with right and might. It didn't take long before I handed my deputy badge back to Adam Kimbro and was standing in line waiting my turn to take the oath. I proudly put on a confederate uniform to fight for State's Rights and Jefferson Davies. I didn't understand all the reasons for the war, I only understood this was a Texas fight. I'd grown up hearing about Stephen Austin the man who started the Republic of Texas and Sam Houston and the battle of the Alamo; pride in my forbearers was in my blood. If Texas was fighting in the War against Northern Aggression than there was no way in hell I wasn't too.

I signed on with the First Regiment, Texas Mounted Riflemen. Our assignment was to protect the Texas frontier. As the fighting between Union and Southern forces accelerated our brigade was sent to join the Thirty-Third Texas Infantry Regiment under the command of General MacPeter Cavanaugh.

Much to my dismay I found life in the Army mostly boring and hard work. To begin with, we were drilled from morning till nightfall, the barracks were drafty and my cot a foot short for my frame. Little did I realize these were the good times, for there was food to eat and a shelter to keep us dry from the rains. After a month of drilling we headed out. On a good day we marched twenty miles with little break, at night we slept on the hard ground with only a blanket for cover.

As time progressed food became scarce, we were forced to forage for what we could find, nuts on the ground, berries from a bush, rats, rattlesnake all served as fodder for the Confederate Army. We endured it well, for we were a band of brothers fighting under the Bonnie Blue Flag.

We joined troops with the Tenth Georgia Regiment. And our fighting began in earnest. Our commander was Major Gabriel Maxwell. He was a big man known for his bravery and leadership and I was proud to serve under him. He was a man's man, a true soldier.

Often as we passed the early evening hours playing cards, shooting craps or trying to patch up our ragged uniforms or tattered footwear, Major Maxwell would stop by for a chat. He'd give us words of encouragement, a tousle of the hair and a pat on the back. On occasion he'd hand out a cigar to share and in turn we'd offer a swig from a bottle of moonshine were we lucky enough to have one. But as fighting, sickness and exhaustion took its toll on our brigade and our number dwindled with each battle, I noticed a change in the man. He took to drinking in his quarters late at night. The glow from his lantern silhouetted his image against the pale canvas of his tent. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and see the light burning. We didn't think anything of it. We were young and drinking was the mark of a man. But as battle fatigue took hold of all of us, his drinking was no longer limited to late night binges in the privacy of his tent. A silver flask was his companion. It wasn't my place to ask questions, although there were others who did, `do or die' was the motto of our Company and no man wanted to fill a coward's grave.

On September 17, 1863 our battalion made camp outside a small northern Georgia town just this side of the Tennessee border. We had heard the gunshots all day as skirmishes were being waged to the north of us. Reports had come back of heavy losses. We figured we would be positioned in the morning to replace the soldiers lost in the conflict that day.

Around midnight a messenger rode into camp with our orders, we could hear Maxwell arguing with the trooper who had delivered the marching papers. The major's staff joined him in the tent. Our commander was irate, we could hear him cursing and swearing. No one was sleeping in camp, and no one uttered a word. Maxwell stepped from his tent and waved the paper in the air.

"Attention men." He said, "I have something to be saying to the lot of you."

We rose from our blankets to fall in rank before our leader. By the light of the lantern which hung outside his tent, we could see he was disheveled and his face ruddy from alcohol. "Here be your orders, and I'm telling you this, the bastard you'll be afighting in the morning ain't those poor mother's sons out there in Yankee blue, but your own Generals who don't give a damn how many of you boys are sent to meet your maker for the sake of a cause that was lost before the fight even began."

Two of the sergeants hastily grabbed the Major and pulled him back into the tent. We watched the outline against the canvas as one of them delivered a knock out punch to the side of Maxwell's face. A short time later one of the men poked his head outside of the tent to order us back to our bedrolls. "Get your sleep while you can lads, tomorrow you'll be fighting for the grand and glorious cause."

That was the last I saw of Major Gabriel Maxwell. Some said he'd deserted that night, others declared he'd been taken a prisoner by his own staff.

We were rousted from our sleep an hour before sunrise and ordered to march northward. The terrain was rough and heavily timbered. We crossed a red clay river called the Chickamauga and the water sloshed in our boots. Roar from artillery thundered around us, and the sky shown with random burst of fireworks. Our orders were to take the place of a brigade whose ammunition and men were exhausted, instead of moving the men away they were ordered to lie down in their places while we charged over them. The air was full of shot and shell and the fighting was fierce, our enemy so close we could reach to touch them before firing our muskets and rifles. I looked into the eyes of the men I killed and saw to my surprise they were no different than I, young and afraid and bound by duty to fight and kill.

On the third day of fighting we were ordered to charge the hillside before us, with a Rebel Yell we mustered all the strength we had and ran up the embankment. All around me my comrades were falling. Death cry after death cry replaced the Rebel Yell. I got no further than halfway up before I took a lead ball in the thigh, I crawled to some underbrush along the side of what was left of a farmer's field and there I lay waiting to die. I don't know how long I lay in that place; I recall night and the moans of my friends as they lay in similar despair praying for an end to their pain. I remember waking in the morning to the sound of cannon blast and musket fire and the battle cries of those remaining soldiers left to carry on the fight. I lived a lifetime of nightmares before waking up in a makeshift hospital tent. Had there been doctors enough to serve all the wounded I do not doubt I would have lost the leg.

When I had gained strength enough to travel I was discharged from my duty and sent home to Texas to die, which I nearly did on the month long journey home. The neighbor who had raised me as a young boy took me to her home again, giving such gentle care that I regained my strength and health. There was still a war going on, but I wasn't of a mind to put on the uniform of the Confederacy again. I'd had my share of fighting a war I couldn't understand, and a part of me agreed with the words Major Maxwell had uttered that last night in camp.

His words and the faces of the men I'd served with and watched die haunted my dreams. I headed north with a cattle drive, but the work was too hard with my injured leg, and I left the drive spending time working as a deputy for a Sheriff in Coffeeville, before moving on to Colorado. The war had done more than injure my leg; I was wounded in spirit as well. I felt a strong need to be away from people and civilization and took to trapping in the high country. I wintered with the Cheyenne and that spring I signed on with the US Cavalry at Fort Jacobson, Colorado.

Captain Bookman, a grizzled old military man had looked at me with a questioning face when I stood before him ready to take the oath of Allegiance to the United States. He studied the papers I'd filled out before remarking, "Says here, you were born and raised in Texas."

"Yes sir." I replied.

"Texas is fighting a war right now with the Grand Army of the Republic."

"Sir," I replied, "I did my part for Texas and the Confederacy. I was honorably discharged from my duty. Sir, that war has nothing to do with me, I'm a westerner, this is my country."

He nodded his head at me but I could see the doubt in his eyes, "Did you see much action?" he asked.

"Chickamauga." I replied.

He stood, and looked me in the eye for what seemed like a long time before saying, "Raise your right hand and repeat after me,

_I Matthew Dillon do solemnly swear in the presence of Almighty God, that I will hereafter faithfully support, protect and defend the Constitution of the UNITED STATES, and the union of the States thereunder; and that I will, in like manner, abide by, and faithfully support all laws and proclamations which have been made during the existing rebellion with reference to the emancipation of slaves. So help me God._

I repeated the words and meant them. I was a soldier again, but this time I was defending the frontier, this time I was defending my country.

**GS GS GS**

"Sure as shit, it was that renegade War Hawk."

The cowpokes I'd stood with out on the street were filing into the restaurant. They were talking excitedly between them, as they pulled out the chairs at a round table next to me. I leaned back so I could listen to their conversation. "And there ain't no doubt where them savages got a hold of them rifles."

"Where's it all gonna end, that's what I wanta know?"

"It ain't gonna end 'til Verdon Spencer's dead."

"Ah hell, Spencer's laughing his ass off. He knows full well with Gabe doing the sheriffing he's got free rein over this territory."

The one they'd called Charlie spoke up in defense of the town law, "Now don't you go blaming it all on Maxwell, like ol' Parm is always sayin', Gabe can't do it all by his self. Ain't a one of you willing to ride beside him, and truth be told, I ain't either, I value livin' too much."

"Ah, hell Charlie, he know'd when he pinned on that badge what was expected of him, for cripes sake, that's what we pay him for!"

"That badge of his don't pay more than a barkeep's wage, and you expect him to risk his neck, hell, I say as long as Gabe keeps peace in Rubicon, we gotta figure he's earned his money."

"Yeah, well, thems fine words, but they don't bring back Schaefer and the old woman, I sure am gonna miss her sonovabitch stew."

Life is a series of checks and balances, a weighing of one worry against the other. Unconsciously my hand went to my pocket to finger the badge. I thought of Kitty at the Trails End, and consoled my conscience that at least I knew where she was. I couldn't deny the pull of the badge any longer. I took a last sip of coffee from the mug, placed twenty cents on the table to pay for my meal and left the restaurant to head for the Sheriff's office.

I knocked at the door before opening it up and walking in. Maxwell was sitting at a large desk cleaning his gun. He looked at me without surprise, "I had a feeling you'd be stopping by when I saw you in the street, what can I do for you son?"

"I heard you might be looking for a deputy, I'm offering my services."

"You got any experience with a badge?" Maxwell questioned as he stood up from his desk and walked toward me.

"Some." I answered.

He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the floor for a moment before looking back up at me, "It's a losing battle we be fighting lad."

My voice was serious but I softened the words with a smile, "It wouldn't be the first time I fought on the side of a lost cause."

I thought he had recognized me in the street as one of his former soldiers, but his introduction proved otherwise. "I'm Gabe Maxwell." He held out his hand to mine and I accepted his.

I hesitated giving my name. As a lawman, I'd already made a reputation for myself. Some gut instinct warned me against revealing my true identity. I grabbed for the first name that came to mind, "Adams." I replied, thinking of the man who had been more like a father to me than any man before, "Matt Adams."

The sheriff chuckled out loud and I wondered what the joke was, "Seems like we got a real run on the family name around here, you're the second Adams to hit town in the past month."

"That a fact?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes at me for just a beat, "Let me show you around Rubicon, introduce you to the folks, we'll try each other on for size, see how well we fit together."

I was amazed that he wasn't going to go after the Spencer gang or at the very least the renegade they called War Hawk, "What happened at Schaefer's Crossing, aren't you going to do anything about it?"

"Lad, there ain't nothing I can be doing about it, me going out there getting killed ain't gonna bring back Bob and the old woman. What it would do is leave this town wide open for Spencer's men to ride on through. I can't take that chance. I figure if Verdon Spencer'sgonna kill me he'll have to do it here in Rubicon."

I looked at him doubtfully, and he saw my uncertainty, "You still want the job?"

I nodded my head. "Fine." He replied as he pulled open his desk drawer and removed a tin star. "Here pin this to your shirt."

"Aren't you gonna swear me in?" I asked.

Maxwell chuckled again, "You are one for rules and regulations ain't you, well then raise your right hand and repeat after me."

"_I Matt Adams, promise to keep the peace in Rubicon and do what Sheriff Maxwell tells me to do so help me God."_


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

Kitty

I'd heard the news shortly after I'd had my talk with Ferd. Some of the men from the Lazy T had entered the saloon talking about Verdon Spencer and War Hawk. "Poor Bob Schaefer, never knew what hit him, heard the old woman suffered some though before they put her out of her misery."

"Charlie" I questioned, "What are you talking about, what about the Schaefers?"

"They're dead.' He told me bluntly and then explained what had happened earlier that morning. It wasn't long before the bar filled with ranchers and cowhands eager to exchange opinions and offer solutions to the latest crisis. Late that afternoon Georgie stopped by with more news. The little man pulled up a chair to sit beside me as I dealt out a hand of five-card stud. He leaned forward resting his arms on his thighs, and said in a voice loud enough for the whole table to hear, "Heard the news?"

I was trying to concentrate on the card game, but I wasn't about to be rude to Georgie after what he had done for me the night before, "Yes, isn't it awful?"

"Yeah, mighty bad about Bob Schaefer and the ol' woman, but that ain't the news I'm telling you about, Gabe done hired himself a deputy?"

The whole room must have heard what Georgie said for the saloon became quiet as the customers moved in closer to learn more information. Georgie sat up straighter as befit the bearer of important news, "Yeah, big tall feller, still young too, I'd say he ain't seen thirty yet."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and goose bumps popped out on my flesh. I squelched a shiver and searched for rational thought. I reassured myself with the notion that there was no way in hell this young deputy could be Matt Dillon. Forcing the idea from my mind, I concentrated my efforts on the card game, winning the next three hands and earning a sizable pot. Still feeling a vague sense of apprehension, I excused myself to change into the black costume for the evening crowd.

I was careful with my appearance but even more careful with my valuables. If there was trouble ahead I was determined to be prepared. Hastily I packed my carpetbag just incase I needed to make a quick escape and placed it near the door making sure my sturdy boots were set on top. I slipped my money into the pocket I'd sewn to the lining of my dress and made a mental note for my next purchase to be a derringer.

From my room I could hear the noisy crowd gathered in the saloon, if I played my cards right it was sure to be another profitable evening. Squaring my shoulders I said a prayer to providence and headed for the main room.

Light flickered from the lanterns suspended from the ceiling. A haze of blue smoke swirled in the air overhead while the smell mingled nose level with stale beer and body odor. In the corner a group of cowhands were harmonizing with Merlin the piano player in the refrain of Lucy from Goosie Road. From a back table came a burst of raucous laughter and I caught sight of Georgie delivering a punch line. Directly in front of me, the boys from the Lazy T offered a chorus of "Howdy Miss Cassie," from their spot near the far end of the bar.

Over and above the din I heard Gabe's voice," There's the gal I was talking about." Like the parting of the Red Sea there was suddenly a clear path ahead of me leading directly to Gabe Maxwell and his new deputy.

With the deliberate reluctance of one headed to her own execution, I forged ahead holding my hand out to shake his. For no longer than a breathless heartbeat, my eyes and hand held Matt Dillon's. "Cassie girl," Gabe's voice broke the bond, "I'd be liking you to meet my new deputy, seems you two share something in common."

A fire started in the pit of my stomach and spread like a lit fuse on a stick of dynamite until it exploded in a flush across my neck and face. Matt spoke and I found it hard to concentrate on the words so taken was I by hearing his beloved voice, "Sheriff Maxwell here, was just telling me your last name is Adams, just like mine."

"Adams?" I questioned, although I'm not sure my voice registered a sound.

Gabe motioned to a vacant table near the door, "why don't you two sit down and figure out if you be long lost cousins while I step up to the bar and take care of the first round."

Matt obliged, "What ever you say Sheriff." He grabbed my arm and guided me to the table. He pulled out a chair and I sat down, as he pushed it in he whispered in my ear, "I've come to take you home."

The word `home' brought me back to reality with the sting of a slap. I waited until he too was seated, before leaning over the table, "I'm not going home; the only thing waiting for me back in Dodge is a noose." I vehemently hissed.

His voice was low, "What ever this thing is Kitty you've got to face it, you won't have any kind of life unless you do." His hand reached out to squeeze my arm, "But you don't have to face it alone."

I yanked my arm free from his grip just as Gabe returned with two beer mugs clutched together in one hand and a mug of sarsaparilla in the other. He plunked them down in front of us, the foam sloshed over the sides and onto the table forming a pool of suds. Matt took off his hat and tossed it in the vacant chair before picking up a mug and taking a long drink.

Gabe settled himself into a chair next to me and offered a toast before downing his sarsaparilla, "To you Cassie girl, tis a happier man I've been since your pretty face has blessed the town of Rubicon."

Matt raised his mug and his eyebrows as he looked from Gabe to me, "To Miss Cassie." He repeated.

From Main Street there came the sound of loud voices and repeated gunfire, before a cowpoke burst through the swinging front doors, "Sheriff Maxwell." He hollered, squinting against the light and smoke, "Is Gabe in here?"

Gabe was already on his feet adjusting his gun belt, "Over here Freddy, what's the trouble."

"Dooley Murphy and his brother are breaking up the Gray Dove, said he'd trash more than the saloon if'n you don't do something about Verdon Spencer."

Gabe winced, under his breath he muttered to Matt and myself, "Dooley's got himself a rare brand of courage, ain't a bar stool in the county that ain't afraid of him. Come on deputy; let's see if we can't placate the bastard." He gave me a smile and a wink, "Begging your pardon Cassie girl."

Matt got up and followed Gabe, but at the door he stopped, said something to the Sheriff and hurried back to me. "Forgot my hat." He said in a loud voice as he grabbed the Stetson from the seat of the chair, in a hushed whisper he ordered, "I've got to see you, meet me around back at mid-night." I didn't get a chance to agree or decline for he was out the door before I could open my mouth.

I sat in shocked silence, for a rare moment numb to all emotions. Flossie slipped into the chair next to me, which was still warm from Gabe's presence. "God's holy socks, who was that gorgeous hunk of man sitting here with Gabe, don't tell me THAT's his new deputy!" I nodded in reply, and Flossie continued, "My oh my, things are certainly looking up in Rubicon."

My face must have registered my distress because Flossie suddenly seemed to take note of it. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I swallowed hard and turned to face her, "I've got to get out of here."

She was puzzled, "What do you mean Sweetie?"

My voice was urgent, "Tonight, I have to get out of Rubicon tonight, before midnight."

Flossie made a quick glance around the room until her eyes rested on the school house clock over the bar which read 9:00, "Kitty, you can't leave tonight, there won't be a stage until tomorrow. What's this all about?

"The `deputy' with Gabe is Matt Dillon, the Dodge Marshal."

"What is a federal lawman doing as Gabe's deputy? Oh, this doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know what he's doing posing as Gabe's deputy, but I do know this, he's come to take me back to Dodge City and the noose. He wants me to meet him behind the saloon at midnight."

Flossie clenched her fists, which were sitting on the table in front of her. "Georgie can help us" Her eyes darted nervously to the bar and Ferd who was watching us, "You just make like there's nothing wrong for the time being."

My mouth was dry, "That's a tall order honey, I don't have much time."

Floss gave my hand a quick squeeze as she got up from the table and headed over to Georgie. I lifted my lips in what I hoped was a smile; I stood, and wiped my sweaty palms on the skirt of my dress before heading off to mingle with the boys of the Lazy T.

There'd be no card playing tonight, I was gambling with much bigger stakes. I was thankful some inner warning had caused me to plan ahead and my bags were packed. The boys were in good humor and didn't require a lot of charm on my part to keep them that way. It wasn't more than an hour later that Flossie came up to me. She pulled me aside and laid out the plan, "There will be a horse waiting for you behind the saloon at eleven. Take the East Road out of town, there's enough moonlight that you should be able to travel all right. You've got make the Ashipan turnoff and Quinlin's stage stop by six tomorrow morning when the east bound stage comes through." I nodded understanding, "It'll be alright Sweetie, now, I'm going up to my room and get some extra cash for you, when I get back you go to your room and get changed."

"Howdy ladies." Parm's voice exploded behind us, causing both Flossie and I to jump. Harris took the cigar from his lips to give us each a kiss on the cheek, "Ain't too often I get to see my two favorite gals unencumbered by the presence of other males. Let's sit down and I'll buy you both a glass of the Trails End's finest."

With a regretful voice Flossie replied, "Much as I'd like to stay Parmly, I've got something to attend to. I'll hold you to that offer of a drink though for when I get back."

Ferdinand Kutz had been keeping a suspicious eye on Flossie and me. Clearly he suspected something. Anticipating Parm's request, he handed him a bottle and me a couple of glasses and we walked to a table and sat down. I knew it wouldn't take much effort to get Parm talking thereby freeing my mind to work out details. "What's new big guy?" I asked and that was all it took, thereafter I was only required to nod my head and smile and mumble an occasional, "Is that so?"

Georgie walked by our table and offered a, "Pleasant evening to you Miss Cassie." I replied with a heartfelt, "Thank you Georgie." For I realized it was his horse I would be making my escape on. Shortly thereafter Flossie returned, "I'll take you up on that drink now Parm."

Hastily I made my exit, "Excuse me folks." I said, "I'm not feeling too well, I think I'll go lay down for a spell."

"Why Miss Cassie, you should have said something, here I've been going in on and on about that new bull from Denver . . ."

Laying a hand on the rancher's shoulder, Flossie said, "Parm you wait right here, I'll walk Cassie to her room and be right back." The rancher nodded with a worried face.

I let Flossie lead me to my room thankful for her support; at my bedroom door she pressed a roll of bills in my hand. I shook my head, "Flossie, I can't take this; it's your savings, your ticket out of this saloon."

Flossie embraced me, "Sweetie, I haven't admitted it before, but you and I both know that big dumb rancher out there is my ticket out of the Trails End. You just take this money and see that it gets you somewhere safe."

My constricted throat wouldn't allow for words, so I let my tearing eyes do the speaking instead. She gave me a final squeeze and was gone. I had a half hour to get changed. I stripped from the gown and pulled on the work clothes I'd worn the first night I'd escaped from Dodge. I had a momentary thought that Matt was right; this was no way to live, always on the run.

With my hair tucked under the dirty Stetson and my breasts bound flat beneath the blue work shirt I left my room and the security of the past month.

I left through a side door and walked around to the rear of the building. Clouds obscured the moonlight and I realized horse travel would be hazardous. The black night held many dangers, nervously I thought about War Hawk and Verdon Spencer. Someone had left a lantern burning at the back door and I spotted Georgie's small paint gelding waiting for me at the hitching rail.

The animal nickered at my approach. I talked to him in soothing tones as I tied my bag and knapsacks to the saddle. I grabbed the reins and had a foot in the stirrup when I heard someone approach. Half in the saddle I never the less urged the horse forward.

"Kitty!" Matt's voice boomed from the alleyway. He picked up his pace to catch up with me.

In a panic I urged the horse to faster motion, but he was a gentle creature not used to swift travel.

"Hold it, Kitty." Dillon ordered in his lawman voice.

I took off my hat and slapped the horse's rump. The scared animal lunged forward, but Matt was beside us running neck to neck with the horse. He grabbed for me and despite my desperate effort to remain in the saddle pulled me from the horse and into his arms. My sudden weight threw him off balance and we both landed with a thud on the hard ground. I was still fighting to get away, but his hold was firm. "Damn it Kitty, calm down." He cussed.

"Let me go." I ordered. With little consideration to my smaller stature he rolled on top of me thereby firmly pinning me in place beneath his lean hard body.

I stopped my struggle and looked into his face. The flickering of the lantern light cast a yellow orange glow around us, highlighting his features. There was a day's growth of beard shading his jaw. His hat had fallen off during our scuffle and now an unruly black curl hung errantly over his forehead. I noticed too, tiredness around his eyes as though he'd been deprived of too many nights sleep.

He was studying me too, I could tell. His gaze searched my face with a hunger that excited the heart of me, our eyes locked and right on cue he broke into a familiar grin. I couldn't help but smile back. "Now that I have your attention Miss Kitty, are you going to listen to me?"

Cognitive thought was becoming difficult for the weight of his body was producing an electrical storm that traveled through my nerves, spurring my heartbeat. I managed a nod."Good." He replied, the glint in his eyes telling me he was reading my thoughts. "Is there somewhere we can talk? Some place a little more private?"

I ran a nervous tongue over my lips. "My room, we won't be bothered there." I answered in a throaty whisper.

His actions mimicked mine as he ran a wet tongue over his lips. There was only a breath separating his mouth from mine. Almost imperceptibly he lowered his face; I eagerly lifted mine to shorten the distance. The joining of our lips was the solder which bound our hearts and for a moment's eternity there was nothing else which mattered - not the dirt beneath my back nor the sage which brushed against our bodies, not even the sounds coming from the saloon and Main Street, only an alley length away. For that brief beat in time only love mattered.


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN **

Matt

The slam of the saloon's side door, rocked through my senses like the first boulders of a landslide and I reacted with an abrupt shift of weight rolling both Kitty and I toward the building until we hit the wall, this time the lady held the upper position.

"Matt …?" She questioned, startled by the change of our interplay.

"Shhhh," I whispered, "Someone's coming." Her softness turned to steel in my arms.

"Who the hell's out here?" Bellowed a voice I recognized as the bartender's. "Damn puss, I know she's up to something," he growled while grabbing the lantern from its holder. He swung it back and forth haphazardly investigating the ally way, I prayed we'd stay hidden by the building's shadows.

"Humph." I heard him grunt as he went back in the building taking the lantern with him.

We lay in silence; each trying to find a meaning behind what had just happened between us. "Kitty." I said, the saying of her name summing up every endearment I'd ever uttered. Instead of responding to my voice she began pulling away from me, but I tightened my hold, "Wait." I implored to no good for she increased her resistance. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I let her go, hoping words might succeed where might had failed, "I need to talk to you."

She sprang to her feet and hesitated only a second before she offered a hand to me. I smiled into the night at the image of her slight frame offering me help. "Thanks." I replied, happy for the second chance at contact.

We faced each other still hand in hand, I caressed the connection, my thumb rubbing circles into her palm, "Listen," I said, "I've got something I need to do here in Rubicon, I can't explain it to you now, but you might call it unfinished business. When that's taken care of you and I are going to head back to Dodge together and we're gonna fight this Barger and we're gonna win."

She pulled her hand from mine, "I don't want to hang." She said simply.

"Kitty, there's no way in hell I'd ever let that happen to you, you know that. You've got to trust me."

She squared her frame in front of me, thrusting forward both jaw and chest, "I do trust you Matt, but I don't trust the power that badge has over you, I'm not sure which one of us would win out if it ever came to a battle between me and that star you wear."

"Honey, the way I see it, you and this badge are on the same side."

"Then you haven't taken a look at those wanted posters with my name and picture on them." The moon slipped from behind a cloud and light came to her face, I was startled to see something akin to defeat reflected there. "I can't fight you Matt, I haven't the heart." She swallowed hard, and caught my eyes with hers, holding them for a blink before looking away. "As long as you say you will stand by me, I'll play this hand your way . . . Cowboy."

I smiled at the promise that one word implied, "That's all I'm asking." I made a move to kiss her again, but she backed away and walked to the horse to collect her things.

As she untied her saddlebag she requested in a flat voice, "Would you mind taking Georgie's horse to the stable for me, just tell Whitey he decided not to go for that ride after all."

**GS GS GS**

A short time later, I stood on the porch steps of the boarding house. I had moved my things to the two-story white frame structure that afternoon when it seemed certain my stay in Rubicon would prove a longer one than I had first anticipated. It had been Gabe's suggestion that I try the Widow Sasse's establishment. He assured me she had a history of renting rooms to lawmen and understood about the irregular hours.

It was well past midnight and I was wondering how I would get in without waking up my new landlady and all of her tenants. I turned the knob on the door and found it locked; I peered in through the front window, the house was dark except for a light coming from a back hallway. From the brief tour Mrs. Sasse had taken me on, I remembered that to be the direction of the kitchen.

Deciding to try my luck on an open back door I left the porch and walked around to the rear. A large veranda ran the length of the homes anterior. I saw light flickering in the kitchen window accompanied by the muffled high pitch of feminine laughter. I moved to the door and through the netted curtains I was able to make out four women of middle years sitting around the oak table playing cards and drinking tea from dainty painted cups. With the back of my hand I rapped on the window. The women jumped in surprise and exchange worried expressions. The Widow Sasse finally rose to her feet; she licked her hand and then ran the moistened fingers over her hair smoothing the wayward russet strands, that had escaped from the tight bun at the nape of her neck. She yanked her prim black shirtwaist over her womanly curves and moved to the door on slightly unsteady feet.

Throwing caution to the wind she opened the door. Her face mirrored relief, "Why Deputy Adams," she said in surprise, "did I forget to give you a key?"

"Yes ma'am." I replied. There was no doubt in my eyes that she was a fine figure of a woman, pretty too, even though she was old enough to be my mother. There was also no doubt that she was somewhat inebriated. A fact which was confirmed by a slightly odiferous belch.

With a black edged hanky to her mouth she pardoned herself, "Do excuse me deputy, I suffer from a slight case of irritable digestion, one of the pitfalls of widowhood and middle years, I fear."

I glanced around Mrs. Sasse to the three ladies sitting at the table. Their flushed complexions confirmed my suspicion that they were in a similar state. With my tongue in cheek to keep from laughing, I realized their teacups held something more potent than Earl Grey. A glance at the sideboard backed up my thinking. A half empty bottle of Gold Barrel Whiskey stood there next to a silver teapot. One of the ladies cleared her throat in an exaggerated gesture to gain her hostess's notice.

The Widow Sasse fanned her face with her hanky, "Oh my, I am remiss in my duties, Deputy may I present Miss Yolanda Boman who is the teacher at our school as well as one of my favorite borders. Next to her is Mrs. Georgie Potter my dear friend and neighbor." Moving closer to the table Widow Sasse placed her hand on the last lady's shoulder, "and this good lady is Mrs. Reverend Winkler, the wife of our esteemed pastor." Mrs. Winkler made a quick move across the table sweeping the cards into her lap.

I tipped my hat and said, "Pleasure to meet you ladies, sorry I interrupted your umm, tea party."

Miss Yolanda, a neat little chestnut haired package dressed primly in blue, offered a smile and a wink, "Oh young man, the pleasure is all ours, believe me."

"Um, thank you." I stammered before making a fast exit, as a twitter of giggles followed in my wake.

I took the steps two at a time, about half way up the staircase I heard the Widow Sasse's voice coming from the kitchen, "Ladies, the game is five card draw …"

My boots resounded against the wood floor, despite my effort to walk softly to my room at the end of the hall. The door was unlocked, I entered, turned the inside key and headed right for the bed. I fell across the mattress in sheer exhaustion. The springs protested my size. I didn't much care; I figured anyone I hadn't already woken up could sleep through anything. I thought back to Kitty and how she'd felt in my arms. Even the recollection of that brief kiss started the juices flowing through my body again. I changed to a more comfortable position. Even more bothersome was the memory of her distrust in me or rather the badges I carried, for there were two of them I'd sworn a pledge to. Somehow, I had to make all this right and for the life of me I didn't have any idea where to start.


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

Kitty's words

I hadn't slept much for each worried toss and turn I took was met by an ache or pain of body and soul resulting from my meeting with Matt Dillon. I'd known him less than two years in Dodge City, in that time I'd let down my guard only marginally. Life had taught me to trust no man completely and to leave nothing except gambling to chance. Even that life law was modified by the edict of cheat when winning is an absolute necessity.

That night, in the space of a heartbeat I had found myself with the weight of his body pressing intimately over mine, locked in a fiery kiss. Even the remembrance brought jolts of aftershocks as powerful as the initial tremor. I gave myself a mental shake. Matt Dillon was all badge, I'd know it from the beginning, he'd made no bones about his intentions. "I'm not a marrying man," he'd say, "it wouldn't be fair, not to the woman I asked to be my wife, and not to the job." I knew the power of the badge would pull mightily on him and I doubted I could balance the weight. I resolved to keep my heart to myself and my head to clear thinking. My life depended on it. Still it was hard to ignore what the mere thought of him did to my senses.

Rest had finally won out just as the sun was beginning its rise along the eastern horizon. I'd managed a few hours of sleep by the time Ferd began banging on my door. "Puss, get your God-damned ass outa that bed."

I cursed him back as I pulled the covers tighter around my tender body. "Go away you bastard, leave me alone."

I had pushed him too far, "I ain't takin this from the likes of you." With a sudden slam, he crashed into the door, splintering the rough-hewn wood leaving only broken framework shielding me from him. Like a charging bull; Kutz plowed through the shattered boards, he took the two steps to my bed and yanked me from the covers. With unchained fury he began beating me, as the lowest coward beats a woman, where no one will see his mark. I screamed at the horror of this act, using the flat of his hand he slapped me silencing my cry with enough force to throw me to the floor. I cowered, as the madman closed in on me. His hand was raised ready to continue the beating but something made him stop. He spit on the floor and then at me, "You owe me, you hear puss, you owe me. I don't know where the hell you were last night, but it sure weren't here working fer me. Now get your ass up off that floor, and get dressed, before I change my mind and cut that face of yours up so bad no man will ever want you again." He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper articulating each word with lethal precision, "Don't never doubt that I will too if I catch you cheating me outa another night's wage." He turned and left the room his boot steps drumming a cadence on the floorboards.

There are few men I've ever hated as much as Ferdinand Kutz. I knew without a doubt, if I didn't get out of Rubicon soon, I'd be charged with another murder and this time I'd be guilty.

When the sound of the outer hall door slam had reached my ears I pulled myself to my feet. The movement brought a jolt in my ribs so sharp I couldn't catch my breath. I closed my eyes willing myself to relax thus releasing the grip the pain had on me. I shuffled to the old table above which hung my mirror and upon which sat my water basin and pitcher. There was enough daylight filtering through the muslin curtains to study my image in the looking glass. I sought evidence of the bartender's attack. A red fan was spreading across my left cheek in the shape of Kutz's hand. I dipped my washrag into the cold water, which had sat overnight in the basin, and applied the cloth to my face; it took some of the sting from the hurt. The outer hall door opened and closed again and I prepared myself for another assault, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the pitcher, for in battle you take your weapons where you find them. I kept my eyes on the mirror and focused on the doorway's reflection

"God's Holy Socks, what the hell happened here?"

I almost smiled with relief at the sound of Flossie's voice and did at the pretty picture her reflection showed. The smile had no more than lifted my lips before a wave of dizziness rushed over me and I suddenly felt as weak as a newborn calf. My legs wobbled unsteadily and I let go of the pitcher and braced my hands on the table for support. Flossie's eyes were opened wide as she picked up her skirts and gingerly stepped over the splintered remains of my door. "Sweetie, what are you doing still here?" she noticed my cheek and disheveled appearance, and hurried to me, "Who did this to you?" Wrapping a caring arm around my waist she led to my cot, where we both sat down.

I covered my face with my hands but Flossie pulled them away, "Kitty." She asked gently, "Who did this?"

My mouth was dry and the word stuck in my throat for a time before I was able to say it, "Ferd."

"Why?"

"Flossie, he's hated me from the moment he set eyes on me. He hates the fact I haven't knuckled under to him. It seems he thinks I was holding out on him last night." I ran my hand over my reddened cheek, "This was just his way of making sure he got a part of the action."

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd gotten out of here like you were going to, what went wrong?"

"Matt Dillon. I never made it out of town; Matt was looking for me and he found me. He convinced me to go back to Dodge with him. He said he's got some unfinished business here in Rubicon to take care of first."

Her voice showed her worry, "You said there's a hangman's noose waiting for you back in Dodge City."

I nodded.

"But you're still going back with Dillon."

"He promised he wouldn't let them hang me."

"Kitty Russell, after all this time, don't you know enough never to trust a man, much less a lawman?"

Unconsciously I ran my fingers under the collar of my nightgown until they came in contact with the onyx locket, it struck me then, how solid the pendant but how fragile the chain. "Flossie, sometimes you just don't have a choice. I'll abide by Matt Dillon's wishes for now, but that doesn't mean I won't be keeping my bags packed ready to get out of Rubicon the minute I think things are turning sour."

**(Matt's words)**

The table in Mrs. Sasse's kitchen was filled with her boarders when I came down the stairs the next morning. Teacher Yolanda Boman bid me a good day and introduced me to the other residents.

"Good Morning to you Deputy," the widow said, turning from the stove with a platter of steaming pancakes. "Breakfast is always served in the kitchen, and supper in the dining room, of course you are on your own for the noon day meal."

"Yes ma'am, I remember." I replied already eyeing a table laden with plates and bowls of hot smoked ham, freshly baked bread and strawberry preserves.

"Sit down, sit down. A big strapping youth like you ... you must be famished."

"Yes ma'am." I wasted no time on talk but set myself right to task. I'd finished my first plateful and was in the process of filling up the second when Gabe stuck his head in the kitchen doorway.

"Matthew lad, it's to work I'm expecting you, not filling your gullet on the Widow Sasse's uncommon good cooking skills."

"Saint's preserve us, Gabriel Maxwell you just hush now, he's a growing boy, let him eat."

Gabe winked in the direction of the table before turning to the attractive widow, "Looks to me like he's growed enough."

I made a move to stand up, but Mrs. Sasse stepped forward to place a firm hand on my shoulder.

"You just stay put, don't pay no never mind to that ol' scallywag."

The Sheriff's eyes twinkled with roguish good humor, "Pardon me Ma'am for being ungentlemanly but that be like the pot calling the kettle black."

"Gabriel Maxwell, your mother certainly picked the wrong name for you, if the Holy Mother had been visited by you with the grand news, she'd a chosen to remain childless!"

"I can't say the same of you my dear, your Ma came up with the perfect handle for you."

Her hands flew to her hips in righteous indignation, "Well, I never!"

"Oh yes you have, but that is beside the point, It was the middle of your name I was speaking of and not the beginning." He picked up the previous night's bottle still sitting on the sideboard and gave the woeful contents a shake.

The widow's face turned to an angry scowl as she grabbed the kitchen broom and swung it threateningly in the direction of the lawman. "Sheriff if you don't get your loathsome carcass out of my kitchen this very instant, I'll sweep you out like I would any prairie dirt littering my floor."

Gabe chuckled, tipped his hat and turned in my direction, "I'll be waiting for you on the front porch deputy, don't be taking too long."

I folded the pancake on my plate in half, picked it up, took a quick gulp of my coffee and made an exit, "Thank you ma'am." I said, "Mighty good breakfast, mighty good."

Her face was red and she was still flustered but she composed herself enough to say, "Supper's at six. If no one is up when you get in tonight, the key is under the door mat."

I slapped my hat on my head and adjusted it a mite, "Yes ma'am." I replied as I hurried out the door.

Maxwell met me at the porch steps. "Widow cooks a fine breakfast, don't she?" he said.

I nodded, finishing off the pancake and wishing I had more. "Say," I asked, "I'm curious, what is the Widow's first name."

"Vir-**GIN**-ia." he answered.

I thought for a moment and then smiled.

The same fella I'd seen playing cards at the Trails End was waiting for us at the Sheriff's office. He sat with his hat tipped back on his head, a cigar clenched between his teeth and his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't say anything as we walked in, only nodded his head in greeting.

"Good morning to you Parmly Harris. Have you met my new deputy?" Gabe asked the man.

The rancher squinted his eyes and studied me for a moment before taking the stogie from his mouth, "Heard about him Gabe, but I ain't had no formal howdy-do."

I held out a hand to the other man, "Matt, Matt Adams."

"Adams huh?" He looked from me to Gabe.

"It's what they be calling a coincidence Parm, now, what can I do for you today, or is this a social call?"

Harris stuck the cigar back in his mouth and took a couple last puffs and then tossed the stump to the floor and ground it to ashes with the heel of his boot. "Damn it, I'm your friend, you know that, but I got something that needs saying. Gabe, there's a lot of talk going on. Folks are mighty upset, the Schaefer's were well thought of, Bob and the ol' woman. It seems to most, me included, you're not doing a dang thing about what happened out there at the Crossing."

"Ain't my place Parm, if it was injuns then it's to the soldiers from Fort McCoy. My responsibility is to this town and the people of Rubicon. "

"Hell Gabe, you know it was Spencer's doing. Folks want to know what's it gonna take for you to do something? Who's gonna get killed or burned out next? I got me two little girls, what if it's my place they hit next?"

Gabe took off his hat and threw it on the desk, "Calm down Parm, you know as well as I do, if I'm not around Spencer will ride into Rubicon, and it'll be his for the taking, it's happened before. I'm thinking with this here new deputy to look after things, maybe I can afford to take a ride out to the Black Mesa country, see if I can't track down, Verdon ..."

He was shorter than Gabe by a good four inches but he stood up and moved directly in front of the lawman, "Then what Gabe? Talk ain't gonna do it. It's time to take a stand, or it won't matter no how, cause there won't be no Rubicon to protect."


	12. Chapter 12

**TWELVE**

**Kitty**

By noon, my door had been repaired by Helmut Kraemer. Hellie, the town drunk did odd jobs at the local saloons, chiefly the Gray Dove, in exchange for drinks or a place to sleep. By most standards he was an odd man, his hair was nearly white, thin on the top and long on the sides, his teeth, those which were left, had yellowed to a dull orange. His unvarying dress was in a dated and frayed morning suit that he'd worn so long it seemed one with his body. His shoes however were a different matter; though thin soled, they stayed polished to sheen. When he spoke which wasn't very often the words were a characteristic blend of English and German.

"Der you be frauline, da door ist fixed."

"I thank you Hellie, can I buy you a drink to show my appreciation?"

"Ja." He replied laconically, while packing up Ferd's tools.

As we walked together toward the bar I added, "You're mighty good at fixing things. Where did you learn your trade?"

"Mein vater, he t'ings fix too."

"Oh, was he a carpenter?

"He vas doktor."

I tried not to do a double take, for I suddenly saw this man in a different light, I had no doubt the soul of a healer lay buried beneath layers of a hidden grief. Life in the West had taught me one thing, to accept people for what they are, and recognize there is a reason for the path they have chosen. I had only to look at myself to see a prime example.

The Trails End filled up early that afternoon. There was tension in the air, and the usual jovial atmosphere of the saloon had been replaced by the low grumbling of discontent. As Georgie explained it to me, "The people of Rubicon are a might edgy, it's like a storm cloud's a hanging over head and no one knows for sure just when it's a gonna burst, but it's damn sure to be a gully washer when it does."

Powder and rouge had done its work camouflaging the mark on my face left from Ferd's blow, but makeup couldn't hide the hate on my face every time I saw the man. For his part, Kutz avoided me, when he did catch my eye he would be the first to look away. I wouldn't say he regretted the beating he'd given me, but it did appear to me he was having second thoughts as to the wisdom of his action, I'd made some powerful friends during my weeks in Rubicon, and Kutz knew it.

After doing a stint serving drinks I pulled a deck of cards from my pocket and solicited players for a game of poker. I'd had a fair run of luck against Larry and Ben two boys from the Lazy T as well as Parm who had stopped by for a beer. My pockets jingled with change and I had a nice little stack of bills on the table in front of me.

"Well, Ma'am, I'm afraid, you've got all my spending cash." Ben said as he threw his cards to the center of the table. "I reckon me and Larry ought to be hightailing it back to the ranch. Mr. Krause wants us to move his breedin' herd up to the North range tomorrow, I `spect, it'll be an early morning and a long day to follow." Reluctantly Larry followed suite.

He tipped his hat in my direction, "Pleasure to lose to you Miss Cassie, you have yourself a fine evening now Ma'am."

Feeling guilty, I offered. "Can I buy you boys a drink before you go?"

"No'm I think we'd best head on back while there's still some daylight in front of us."

Parm smiled at the pair of cowpokes, "You boys take it easy now, keep your guard up, you hear?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Harris."

When they had left, Parm turned his attention back to me; he pulled out a cigar and lit it saying, "You can buy me a drink Cassie."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I was feeling sorry for them Parm, but you've got more money than anybody in Rubicon, talk is you paper your walls in greenbacks and use `Double Eagles' for shooting practice, and I think if anyone is going to buy drinks at this table it better be you buster."

He threw back his head and roared with laughter. "That's what I like about you Missy, you ain't afraid to call a spade a spade." He reached into his pockets and searched for change. Finding them empty he gave me a helpless look and shrugged his shoulders.

Grudgingly I pulled a coin from my pocket money, "Oh, all right, but it's only because I'm thirsty; Ferdie's lukewarm beer would taste mighty good about now, and I'm too much of a lady to drink in front of you while you go without. But, you'll have to go up to the bar and fetch them." He grabbed the coin off the table, as I admonished, "I want the change back, you hear?"

"Yes Ma'am." He answered with mock fear.

While he was at the bar, Flossie came down the stairs, she was wearing a new dress she had sewn herself. It had taken three months of stitching and seaming, she had confided to me, but the finished product was worth the effort. The gown was sky blue polished cotton,with a princess cut which emphasized her small waist and a sweetheart neckline to show off her shapely bosom. She headed to my table.

"Flossie, you look mighty pretty, but that's not exactly a working dress." I observed.

She grinned, "I have a confession, I was ready to come downstairs in my saloon gear when I saw Parm down here playing cards with you. I thought this might be a good chance to show off my ummm ahh sewing skills."

I laughed out loud in agreement, as Parm brought back the tray with our drinks. I gave Flossie a wink, "Sorry Parm, I just remembered something I have to do, why don't you sit down with this pretty gal instead."

The rancher's eyes traveled up and down the blond lady's new dress, taking in every curve. Without looking back at me he replied, "That's a right shame, Miss Cassie, well you just do what you've got to do, don't you worry none about me."

I left the two of them wrapped up in each other's eyes. I stopped by my room to secure my winnings, tucking the large bills into the hidden pocket. I'd been in the room no longer than ten minutes when Ferd was pounding on my door. "Puss, get the hell out here."

He may have proved he was stronger than I and could beat me senseless if he desired, but I wasn't going to let him see my fear. I hollered back at him, "Keep your shirt on Fatso. Even you can understand the need to use a convenience when nature calls."

I opened the door; crossing my fingers he wouldn't look to see evidence of my claim. He didn't, and seemed almost embarrassed. His voice was gruff though, "Boys are asking fer you. Flossie took the night off. I need you working the floor." I smiled to myself at the news, so the blue dress had done its work.

Stepping back on the saloon floor the first sight which caught my eye, was the tall cowboy leaning casually against the bar, one scuffed boot propped idly on the brass foot rail looking for all the world like he hadn't a care. He smiled when he saw me. The charm of which drew me like a moth to a burning candle. I ignored Buck and Charlie who asked me to sit with them as I walked by. "Hello deputy." I said with a voice deeper than normal.

"I've been looking for you." He replied, "I even asked the barkeep to go find you. I guess he did." I took a quick glance in Ferd's direction. He was setting up a tray but keeping a watchful eye in my direction. He gave me a look meant to say, "You treat that badge right, I don't want trouble with the law."

"Buy me a drink and we'll sit and talk." I replied not wanting to give away too much to the pounding of my heart and the closeness of him. He held two fingers up for Kutz to see, and said in a loud voice. "House rye barkeep"

After we'd been served we carried our glasses to a small table near the back of the room. "Where's your boss?" I asked as he settled himself in the chair.

He pushed his hat off his forehead exposing unruly dark curls, "Back at the office, he said he wanted me to work the town today. Guess he wants to see if I've got what it takes to be a lawman."

I gave him a speculative look coupled by a lopsided grin, "Does he know you're drinking on the job?"

"Hell, it was his suggestion. He told me to keep an eye on his Cassie girl - make sure no trouble comes to you." Pausing for a moment, Matt frowned studying my face. "Is there something going on between you two? Something I should know about?"

"Gabe's been a good friend, the best there could be." Matt kept staring at me and I was beginning to feel self-conscious as his gaze centered on my left cheek. His scowl deepened, he raised his hand and his fingers gently touched my face.

"How'd this happen?" he asked.

I bit my lip, afraid to respond, but knowing I had to, "Last night, when you pulled me from the horse, it must have happened then.

He shook his head, "Looks like you were slapped, hard."

"No." I lied. My life was complicated enough as it was, if Matt knew what Ferd had done he'd kill him. The thought came to me we'd both be in a fine fix if that happened. At least he'd make good company running from the law, but knowing Dillon he'd turn us both in. The thought eased the strain on my features and my grimace turned into a grin. Matt let the matter and his hand drop. He finished his drink. "Guess I'd better finish my rounds." For a heart beat his eyes captured mine, making promises I longed for him to keep. "I'd really like some time alone with you Kitty."

The hearing of my name brought me back to the reality of the Trails End and my reasons for being here, "Shhhh." I hissed hurriedly, "the name is Cassie, don't forget it Deputy Adams!"

Matt readjusted the hat on his head, "I'll look for you later Miss Cassie, say around closing time."

I hadn't seen Loretta sidling her way over to us. She leaned over resting her forearms on the table directly in front of Matt. He was forced to stare right into her exposed and ample cleavage, "Cassie here, don't take to entertaining fellas in her room after hours big guy, but I do..." her gaze traveled below Dillon's belt, "and when it's someone as fine as you, why I'll even cut you a deal on the going rate."

Matt stood up as fast as he could, the chair fell over behind him, he swallowed nervously, adjusted his hat yet again and said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Loretta hooted as Matt made a fast exit through the swinging batwing doors, "Oh, he's a shy boy; I like `em shy. Shy and big, ummm-mmmmm."


	13. Chapter 13

**THIRTEEN**

**MATT**

I didn't make it back to the Trails End by closing time; the delay was a combination of duty to the badge and outright fear of what Loretta would do were she permitted the opportunity to get her hands on my body. I'm man enough to admit she scared the starch right out of me.

By the time I'd finished my rounds, the door was bolted shut and only a few dim lights were glowing from the windows of the saloon's bedrooms. I stood in the deserted street, and wondered which one could be Kitty's.

Whether it was the memory of the kiss I'd shared with her, or maybe just the restlessness I was feeling, I decided to walk around to the back of the building. There were stars in the sky lighting the dark to an indigo blue and draping the shadows in soft velvet. The air was warm and filled with night sounds of cicada, cricket and the solitary hoot owl. From a far off distance I heard the howl of a coyote and the echoing answer of his mate. I felt alone and sad and these emotions puzzled me, certainly a man is never more alone than out on the prairie, yet here I was in a town surrounded by civilization and I'd never felt more isolated, knowing Kitty was so close yet unattainable didn't help. I was ready to turn to leave and head back to the boarding house, when I heard the hinge of the saloon's back door creak. With pounding heart I turned to the direction of the noise.

"Matt?" she whispered.

Moon glow set alight the shadows, "Kitty." I breathed.

Two steps on each of our part united us, and the night was no longer lonely.

**GS GS GS**

It was two days later that word reached Rubicon about the massacre at the Lazy T. Five cowboys had been killed defending a herd of cattle from rustlers. It was unclear if it had been War Hawk's renegades or Verdon Spencer's gang, there was no doubt among the townsfolk it was one or the other and in their eyes they were the same.

Men were gathering in the street, talk was strong and growing stronger as whiskey bottles fueled their anger. From inside the Sheriff's office I looked out the window at the gathering mob, while Gabe talked with Oscar Krause. "The boys were late getting back to the ranch." He explained obviously still in a state of shock. "Me and Jake, my foreman doncha know, rode off to see what was holding 'em up, I knew they must a run into some sort of trouble, but never in my life did I expect to see what was out there, it was terrible, just terrible. Gabe, you gotta put a stop to this."

Maxwell took a rifle down from the rack on the wall and began loading it. "See to my horse would you deputy?"

"You going after 'em Gabe?" Krause asked. "There's a whole town full of men ready to ride out with you."

The Sheriff pulled out a saddlebag and began filling it, "I'll be riding alone."

"They'll kill you certain." The rancher predicted.

"It's a chance I've got to take."

Krause spit a stream of brown tobacco juice in the direction of the spittoon, before giving his diagnosis, "You're crazy!"

"Oscar, I don't know what happened out there to your men, I'm gonna ride out to your North pasture and take a look. Might even venture as far as the Black Mesa; see if I can spot where them bastards be hiding. They shouldn't be too hard to trail, seeing as how they've got a hundred head of cattle, and them kindly beasts leave their mark. Now then deputy, I asked you to get my horse."

"Sheriff, maybe I should come with you…" I started.

He didn't raise his voice but the steel in it was strong, "I'm telling you what I want lad, and that be my damned horse, now you'd best be getting it for me, pronto like."

By the time I got back with the Sheriff's large bay gelding he was ready to travel. "Don't know how long I'll be gone Matthew lad, until I get back, the town is yours, that's a weighty burden for one as young as you, but I'm thinking it won't be the first nor the last time you carry a heavy load."


	14. Chapter 14

**FOURTEEN**

**Kitty**

Life in Rubicon could be worse I told myself. I didn't know what the future held for me once Matt had settled his business, but for the time being I was safe. More than that, my gambling was enabling me to raise money at a fast rate. I'd made friends, good friends who I knew I could count on. They had proven their loyalty on countless occasions during my time in Texas. I laughed at myself; none of these sensible reasons was the cause of my newly found calm and composure. My contentment lay in the arms of a certain young lawman who had found his way to Rubicon. For the past two nights we had met in the alleyway. Breathless with need, I'd escorted him to my small quarters in the storage area of the saloon.

Once inside the confines of my room, we spent little time on talk, and the narrow cot was certainly not conducive to sleep. But the young heart in love worries not about the setting. It strives only for that perfect union to make it whole.

I should have realized contentment has a price.

**GS GS GS**

I'd been sweeping out the morning's litter in preparation for the afternoon crowd when I heard a ruckus coming from the street. I was surprised to see the Lazy T crew riding into town, lead by Oscar Krause. I knew straight away something was wrong. I looked for the familiar faces of the men I'd come to know and came up missing several. Larry and Ben the two boys I'd played poker with the other day were no where to be found in the group. The riders pulled up short in front of the sheriff's office. I made a move to push open the swinging doors but Flossie reached for my arm and held me back. "Best stay in here Sweetie. Looks to me like men's work."

Sometime later that day Parm came in, Buck was at the bar discussing the situation with Ferd and Charlie. Harris moved right over to them, I could hear the anger and frustration in his voice.

"It was just too close this time – just way too god-damn close. My ranch is on the other side of that pasture land. Everyone knows I'm a patient man, but I'm saying here and now, my patience has run dry. What's Gabe fixin' to do about this?"

"The Sheriff rode out after 'em." Buck replied.

"Who's keeping an eye on the town?" Parm questioned.

"Deputy." Charlie said.

"That big kid? I know Gabe mentioned he was gonna train him, don't reckon he figured to be needed so soon."

Parm grabbed the glass Ferd had stuck in front of him and tossed some coins on the bar before taking a hold of a whiskey bottle. He looked in my direction with a weak smile. "Get yourself a glass Miss Cassie and join me."

We settled ourselves at a corner table. He downed a glass and poured himself another before I'd taken my first sip of whiskey. His fingers drummed a nervous beat on the table, finally he pulled a cigar from his pocket, biting off the end, he spit it on the floor. "I smoke too many of these damn things." The rancher admitted before he struck a match on the heel of his boot and lit the tobacco.

I kept my voice light and teasing, hoping to ease his tension. "Parm I've known you for a bit now, and I don't think I've ever seen you so nervous."

"Guess I'm poor company for one such as you."

I shook my head at him and smiled, "Friends take friends as they come. Do you really think your ranch is in danger?"

"Hell, it ain't the ranch I'm worried about. I can buy more cows, and build better fences, what I can't replace are them little gals of mine. I'm thinking of bringing 'em in town; maybe having them stay at Widow Sasse's place."

"Parm, you're one of the toughest men I've ever met; I'd say anywhere you are those girls are going to be safe."

"That's true enough, I wouldn't let no harm come to my babies, not while there's life left in this body of mine, but the truth is I can't be with 'em every minute of the day." The furrow on his brow relaxed, and he nearly smiled, "Fact be told, there might be certain benefits to having the girls in town other than their safety."

I cocked my head to one side, "Like what?"

He took a huge breath, and let his gaze drift to the upper balcony, "I've been giving some thought to getting married again."

I forced a tight rein on my excitement, "Oh?"

"Yes'm, my wife, Jeanie, she was something special, a real lady, soft as a prairie flower, delicate too. Not meant for this kind of rugged life I reckon. It was hard for me to lose her, but I'm figuring it will be harder still, when the girls start asking question, the kind that need a female to answer – a woman who cares enough to give the right answers. Know what I'm saying?"

"I think I do. Maybe you want to use the opportunity to see how the girls react to …" I wasn't sure if I should say the name, although I felt certain sure it was Flossie he was thinking of. Parm took a deep drag on his cigar, turned his head and blew the smoke away from our table.

He winced and I sensed an inner conflict was causing him discomfort, "Flossie ain't nothing like Jeanie. Don't look like her, don't talk like her. Jeanie was a lady; her papa was one of the richest men in St Louis, Missouri."

"Parm," I admonished, with a need to defend my friend, "money doesn't make a lady. Flossie, may not have all the fancy manners someone raised in fine style might have but she is a lady make no mistake about it."

"Ah hell, Cassie, I know that. It's just that the little gals might not see it that way. If they compare her to their mama and don't take her for what she is, well she don't have a chance. It's them I got to be thinking of, I figure I owe that much to Jeanie."

I gave his hand a pat, "Of course you do Parm." I bit my lip as an idea started working its way around in my brain. "What if, once the girls are settled you invite Flossie to dinner at the boarding house, so she and the girls can meet and they can get to know each other?"

He nodded his head, "Yeah, I wouldn't have to tell them I was sweet on Flossie, would I? Maybe we could say she was a friend of the Widow Sasse?"

I raised my glass in a salute, "Sounds like a plan."

**GS GS GS**

That night in the afterglow as we in each other's arms, Matt told me the details he'd heard about the massacre at the Lazy T. He confirmed my fear that Larry and Ben had been among the cowboys killed. I bowed my head against his chest, to hide the tears of grief welling in my eyes.

"Were they friends of yours?" Matt asked as he tenderly stroked my back.

"They were." I responded.

He shook his head, "I think it's time to let Gabe know who I am; he can't handle this on his own. Like he says, his duty is to Rubicon, he can't be expected to police the territory. That's why they pay men like me."

I sat up and I looked at him through the candlelight, trying to see past the face of the man I cared about to the hard core of the man inside. "You're just one person Matt, Spencer has a whole army."

"Kitty if one man has the courage to stand up to him, then it won't be long before others join in. Every army there ever was, started with one man who wasn't afraid to fight for what he believed was right."


	15. Chapter 15

**FIFTEEN**

For the next week things were quiet. Parm moved his girls and himself into the boarding house. His visits to the saloon became a daily occurrence, he and Flossie would find themselves a quiet table and sit for hours talking and laughing to the exclusion of everyone else. It meant more work for the rest of us, because Flossie had always shouldered her share of the load. Ferd didn't seem to mind, Parm was a wealthy rancher, and it was clear he would rather have one happy rancher than a half dozen disappointed cowhands.

I suppose it was hardest for Georgie Potter, who was forced to return to his own home every night at closing time. "I reckon I could find myself another lady." He confided in me one night, "but frankly I don't have the heart for it."

I gave his shoulder a pat, "Oh come on Georgie it's not as bad as all that is it?"

He turned around to look at the lovebirds giggling in the corner, "Hell yes Miss Cassie, I no sooner break `em in, then some handsome young buck steals `em away from me."

I didn't mean to hurt his feelings when I asked, "Now Georgie, do you really think Flossie was ever truly yours?"

To my surprise Georgie chuckled, "Only lady that was ever truly mine is Irmagaard. Only problem is she's twice my size and can beat the snot outa me if she gets a mind to."

I threw my head back and laughed out loud, "In that case Georgie boy, for the sake of your health you'd better spend some time romancing her. I know from experience you don't want to be on the bad side of someone who can beat the 'snot' out of you."

The following afternoon I was sitting at a back table playing solitaire when Flossie stormed through the front doors. She plopped herself down at the chair opposite me, removed her bonnet and flipped it on the table disturbing my card game before slumping back dejectedly.

I lifted the flower-trimmed hat from the table and handed it back to her, "What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"It's over!"

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"Parm wants me to meet the girls Sunday night."

"Flossie that's wonderful. It sounds to me like he's getting ready to pop a question."

"Oh, I have no doubt he is, but he won't if the girls don't like me." She leaned across the table and whispered in a hoarse panic, "Sweetie, I don't know nothing about kids, God's Holy socks I don't even remember being a kid!" Throwing up her hands in desperation she asked, "How the hell am I going get through dinner without making a damn fool of myself?"

Running my hand across the table I picked up my cards, "Well, in the first place, don't talk about God's socks and say hell and damn."

"Oh, I'll never remember." Flossie wailed her voice heavy with despair. "I'll say or do something stupid and the kids will hate me forever."

"Flossie, you'll do just fine." I encouraged. "You've got a couple days to practice. I'll help you.

I'd never considered myself to be a great lady; I'd lived too many years in saloons and gambling houses to ever have earned that title. However in my early youth, before the war, I'd spent some time at Miss Luella's Seminary for Young Ladies of Refinement. During that time, I'd gained a rudimentary knowledge of social skills and proper and gracious deportment. I tried to pass this limited wisdom on to my friend. I shared with her the genteel art of holding one's pinky at right angle to a teacup, and sipping the contents rather than slurping. We practiced correct usage of eating utensils and proper placement of the napkin when in use and after. We also gave due consideration to conversation. I wrote up a list of questions for the girls, which I hoped would prove a catalyst to pleasant table talk.

Sunday morning came and Flossie still lacked confidence. "I'm not going unless you come to." She declared.

"I can't just invite myself to dinner, you know, it wouldn't be good manners."

"Oh, God's Holy socks, if I hear one more damn thing about good manners I'm gonna ..."

"Flossie! Don't say it! I want you to listen to me, just talk to Parm, if it is alright with the Widow Sasse, I'd be delighted to join all of you for supper at the boarding house."

It appeared Parm was as nervous as Flossie and only too happy to have my presence serve as a buffer between his lady friend and children, from the sounds of it as far as the Widow was concerned the more the merrier and the thought of two saloon gals in her dining room aroused her curiosity.

I'd not seen much of Matt since Gabe had left town, and I admit I was hungry for his company; the dinner would at least partially satisfy my appetite. His responsibility to the honor of the deputy badge was as strong as the one he held for the US Marshal's badge. As far as Dillon was concerned, duty and the law came first in Rubicon just as it had in Dodge.

Parm arrived at the saloon to escort us to dinner shortly after 5:00 P.M.; Flossie was wearing the blue gown she had worked so hard to make. Her pale blond hair was confined to a tidy bun, with severe spit curls framing her face. No powder or rouge decorated her cheeks, but Flossie possessed an exquisite beauty, which needed no adornment. I opted for the dark blue skirt and white shirtwaist. It was cleaned and pressed and familiar.

The boarding house was a charming white-framed structure with blue trimmed gingerbread embellishing the windows, doors and porches. It was clean too, something, which especially caught my eye after the past weeks at the Trails End. Roast beef, rich and succulent embraced my senses, mixed with the heady aroma of freshly baked bread and steaming apple pie. My stomach let out a loud rumble of appreciation, which earned a smile from Parm and a `shhhhush,' from Flossie.

I'd heard about the Widow Sasse and had even seen her in the street as she scurried to the General Store and the dressmakers shop. From a distance I could see she was a striking woman. Her thick hair was a deep russet and so shiny that it seemed to reflect light. She was still shapely despite the fact she had reached an age when some women seem to give up the fight. Still I wasn't prepared for actually meeting the lady. She was filled with energy and humor and one could see she enjoyed life. She wiped her hands on her white ruffled apron as she moved into the entryway to greet us. Her voice was deep and melodic as she grabbed our hands, "My dears, welcome to my home, I've heard so much about you and it tis grand pleasure to actually be meeting the two of you."

Virginia Sasse's smile was so genuine and the handshake so firm and warm I felt immediately at ease. I glanced at Flossie, her face was frozen in a peculiar smile and she held her statuesque frame stiffly. She articulated the rehearsed reply in mechanical precision, "Thank you for having us Mrs. Sasse."

Parm stepped forward nervously, in an eager voice he called to his daughters, "Regina, Philomena, come here, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

From the side of the kitchen doorway two little heads appeared, one slightly taller than the other, slowly the rest of their bodies were revealed. They moved shyly into the room before scampering quickly to their father's side. Regina and Philomena Harris were dressed in identical frilly white dresses; their rich chestnut hair was pulled away from their faces with matching blue ribbons. They looked flawless with rosy cheeks and big blue eyes, like a page taken from the Ladies Home Companion under the heading of How to Raise the Perfect Child.

"Hello Papa." The younger of the two greeted, "Is this Miss Florence?" She asked looking at me.

"No, no." he stuttered, "This here is Miss Florence." He gave Flossie a little nudge, which caused her stiffly held body to lunge forward. I grabbed at her, keeping her from falling into the umbrella stand.

Harris cleared his throat and introduced his intended to has daughter, "Miss Florence, this here is Miss Regina."

Flossie bobbed her head a little and made a slight bend of her knees as though meeting royalty. "Pleased to meet you I'm sure." She mumbled.

The older child moved forward and it was than that I realized shyness was a ruse. She had obviously attended a school not unlike Miss Luella's Seminary and had achieved top marks. She had clearly mastered the social graces. With a dainty curtsy she said in a voice way too practiced to be sincere. "Miss Flossie please come in the parlor and sit with us, Regina and I would so like to get to know you."

Parm smiled lovingly at his little girls as Philomena's small hand found Flossie's and began tugging her into the front room, Regina after a sweet smile grabbed her other hand and Flossie was officially taken captive. I saw outright fear in her eyes as they pulled her through the door. I made a move to follow them, but Parm stopped me. "Miss Cassie, I think we should just leave them alone to get to know one another."

I caught the Widow Sasse's eye and I knew what she was thinking. Heaven help Flossie because those two little girls certainly weren't going to. "Is there anything I can do to be of assistance Mrs. Sasse?" I asked.

"My friends call me Gin, honey, I don't need the help, but I'd surely appreciate the company." She turned to the rancher. "Parmly, I have a bottle of my homemade sweet plum wine sitting on the side board in the dining room, you may fill the glasses on the table please."

"Yes'm." he answered as dutifully as a good son.

Mrs. Sasse made me feel right at home in her kitchen and soon I was telling her about life at the Trails End, leaving out some of the coarser details. We could hear the piano being played in the parlor as one of the girls was apparently giving Flossie an impromptu recital. Virginia Sasse gave me a conspiratorial assessment, "If your friend thinks it tis difficult dealing with loutish and foul mouthed cowpokes, she hasn't seen anything yet, those two daughters of Parm may look innocent enough but I've no doubt a delinquent mind be lurking behind their baby blues."

I was filling a bread basket with an assortment of dinner rolls when we heard the front door open again and the voice of the deputy as he exchanged a greeting with the rancher. "Cassie honey, why don't you take that basket and place it on the table? It sounds like the deputy be home and he is always hungry. My, oh my, if I were just twenty years younger, I'd be sorely tempted..." She stopped in mid sentence and blushed.

I smiled and with a twitch of my eyebrows agreed with her, "I know what you mean Gin."

Teacher, Yolanda Boman was already sitting with Parm and Matt in the dining room she was discussing the need for a new school house with the men, trying to garner public support for a proposal she was going to present to the members of the Board of Education for Rubicon Township. "Hello" she said and welcomed me with a smile. "You must be Miss Adams; I've heard a fair bit about you. I'm Miss Boman, I teach at the Rubicon School."

I placed the basket on the table, "Oh, do you teach Parm's daughters?"

Miss Yolanda shook her head, "No, not yet at least, I've been hoping to convince Mr. Harris to let the girls come to our school, I think they would benefit from being around other children from different, shall we say less privileged backgrounds. Regina and Philomena have had private tutors."

"It seemed to make more sense than dragging them eight miles into town every day and then fetching them home. It works out they'd spend more time coming and going than actually in the class room." Harris defended.

The teacher lifted her chin and proffered a sardonic smile, "Well, now you don't have that excuse do you sir?"

Parm's neck reddened, "It wasn't an excuse ma'am, just a fact."

The widow backed through the adjacent door with a large meat platter just in time, "Dinner's served, Parmly you'd better be rescuing your lady friend from Regina and Philomena."

He walked over to the door, turned the knob and gave the door a shove, I watched as the door opened and Flossie came into view, though not a hair on her head had been harmed she looked emotionally beaten and bruised and I could only wonder what those little girls had told her.

While Parm hurried to pull out a chair for Flossie, Matt quietly offered me the seat next to his. The first minutes of the meal were spent passing one tempting plate after another around the table. It was during this exchange that little Regina knocked the glass of sweet plum wine off the table and into the lap of Flossie's blue dress. I jumped from my seat and hurried to her side and the pair of us frantically tried to sop up the purple mess. I could tell she was making a valiant effort to hold her anger in check. I crossed my fingers that she wouldn't let go of her favorite oath, "I'm so sorry Miss Florence." Regina said and then giggled.

Through gritted teeth, Flossie replied, "That's alright Sweetie, I've been known to spill a drink or two myself."

Philomena sat up a little straighter. "That's right, you sell alcohol in a saloon don't you Miss Flossie?" The schoolteacher choked on her own glass of sweet plum wine nearly spraying the table with the liquid in her mouth.

In an effort to change the subject from our profession to something safer I commented on the piano playing I'd heard. "Someone certainly is an accomplished musician, the piano music was lovely."

"Thank you Miss Cassie." Regina said. "I was playing Von Beethoven."

Flossie stopped dabbing at her skirt long enough to ask, "I thought you said it was fer Elise."

Philomena rolled her eyes at her sister, before turning to Flossie, with an air of importance she corrected, "Fur Elise, Miss Florence, FUrrrr, not `fer'. Mr. Von Beethoven composed the piece of music for a beautiful young woman he had asked to be his wife, but alas, she rejected him because she thought he deserved better than she. You see Elise was but a common trollop."

Miss Boman held up her hand, "Whoa there little girl, I don't think that's exactly the story."

Philomena scowled at the teacher, she said her words with an air of condescending authority, "Mademoiselle Thibodaux instructed us in piano and music appreciation Miss Boman," as if that statement should put an end to any argument on the educator's part.

The teacher studied the children for a moment obviously deciding this was neither the time nor the place to argue with them.

Matt hadn't said much through out the meal seemingly intent on consuming the fine beef roast Widow Sasse had prepared for us. I knew differently. From time to time I would feel the pressure of his knee rubbing against mine. At first I thought the contact was innocent enough until I'd caught the look in his eyes. From that point on I found it difficult to concentrate on my meal.

"You alright Miss Cassie?" Parm asked from his seat at the head of the table. "Your face is a bit flushed."

I fanned myself with my napkin, "It's just a might warm in here Parm." I turned to Gin Sasse. "Thank you so much for having me for dinner, I don't know when I've had a better meal, but I think I'd best be getting home."

"You sure you're alright honey?" Gin asked with a concerned voice.

I nodded and turned to Flossie, "I'll see you later."

"But Sweetie, you can't walk back alone…" she whined in a panicky voice.

Matt stood up and placed his napkin on the table, "I'll walk you home Ma'am, it's time for me to make my rounds." He turned to our hostess, "Like Miss Cassie said, mighty fine meal."

We said our good byes and it wasn't until we were on the front porch that he took my hand and pulled me into the shadows away from the street lamp. Taking his hat from his head he said in a husky whisper, "There's something I've wanted to do all night."

I smiled; the texture of my voice matched his, "Oh, what's that Cowboy?"

"This." He swept me in his arms and kissed me so completely had it not been for his arms supporting me, my knees would surely have given way. We stayed pressed together in the early glooming until the stars came out sprinkling the sky with light. When at last he let go his grip he did so reluctantly, "I really do have to get on with my rounds."

"Will I see you tonight?" I asked.

He reached out to touch my cheek; his fingers slowly traced my lips. There was no sound except our breathing. He moved closer as if to replace his fingers with his lips and then pulled back abruptly. He shook his head, "I don't think so."

Standing back he inhaled deeply, as we both made an effort to regain our composure. He ran his fingers through his hair before replacing the Stetson. Taking my arm, we started walking slowly towards the saloon. "Kitty, did you ever get this feeling, that something was about to let loose?"

"Yeah, I get that feeling about every day here in Rubicon." I answered.

"Gabe shoulda been back by now. I'm heading out to look for him tomorrow; Parm Harris has agreed to keep an eye on the town." We were at the front door of the saloon I put my hand into my pocket for the key Flossie had given me and placed it in the lock, but Matt reached out and put his hand over mine. "If something should happen while I'm gone…"

I turned to stare at him, "Like what?" I asked.

"I don't know; if Barger comes into town - if you think someone recognizes you - Kitty I want you to get out of Rubicon. Head for Lebanon, Texas, it's about a two day stage ride east from here." His hand slid into the inside pocket of his leather vest and pulled out an envelope. "The sheriff, Ray Moser, is an old friend of mine, give him this letter, he'll see no harm comes to you."

I stared at the envelope and then looked back up at Matt, "What does the letter say?"

"The truth, there is a warrant out for your arrest for a crime you didn't commit."

"What about you?" I asked fearing for his safety more than mine.

"I'll be fine Kitty." He opened the door and gave me a push inside; as the door closed between us I heard, "I love you." I was never sure which of us uttered the phrase but I knew the words came from both of our hearts.


	16. Chapter 16

**SIXTEEN**

After making my rounds I headed back to the office. I wanted to make sure I had enough ammunition for both Gabe and I. A large map of North Texas hung on the far wall. By the light of the kerosene lamp I checked out the region around the Black Mesa where Spencer was known to make his hideout. It was rough country, the area characterized by rocky formations and barren land. Having grown up in Texas I was familiar with the terrain. It was a territory dominated by craggy sand stone mountains, formed from volcanic rocks as jagged and sharp as cut glass. The Table Mountains rose in the sky until they were stopped flat, left to loom like deep purple storm clouds in the unsettled heavens.

With my provisions in order and weapons made ready I headed back to the boarding house knowing this would be my last opportunity for sleep in a soft bed for a good while. I half regretted my decision not to spend the night with Kitty. It would have been some comfort to have her soft body sleeping next to me, but experience had told me how hard it would be to leave her at first light.

I took the back route to the Widow Sasse's, making my way through the small orchard to the rear of her home. Lamplight was glowing softly from the kitchen window. I stopped short when I saw two figures standing together on the back porch. Their silhouetted shadows were framed against the house. I'd found myself in an awkward position. I couldn't go forward and embarrass them and I couldn't back track for the same reason. I sat down in the long grass and leaned against one of Mrs. Sasse's sweet plum trees. The voices were clear and it was hard to ignore what their words implied.

"Tis a bad thing Ginny my dear, when a man can't work a woman from his heart."

"Gabriel, I think it is time you realized my place be in your heart; that is the way of things, the path the fates have planned for the two of us. No amount of denying can change it; the good Lord knows I've tried."

There was quiet and a quick glance confirmed the two shadows had become one. It was a time before I heard them talk again. "My kind of life is no life for the likes of you; we've proved that once before, I'll not be putting your life at risk again."

"By the best of standards life is too short, but hours spent without the one you love are empty indeed and if you don't know that mister, you're a fool, the biggest damn fool I know."

He chuckled, "There's the hell cat I know and love, I was thinking you'd gone soft on me Virginia Sasse."

Her voice reflected exasperation, "Oh be gone you scalawag before I fetch my broom and run you off properly."

"I'm going, but not before I steal myself another kiss."

"Oh Gabe … my head tells me I'm a fool…"

"Hush Ginny … by your own words, tonight tis the heart we listen to." The screen door opened and then slammed shut and when I looked the porch was empty. I waited a good while before I left the orchard for the house. I didn't need to worry about my trip in the morning to find the Sheriff; tonight we were sleeping under the same roof.

**GS GS GS**

I was at the office an hour before Gabe appeared the next day. He made no comment about when he'd gotten back to town and I didn't think it prudent to ask. However, I did want to hear the details about his trip. "Pour me a cup of coffee deputy, and I'll tell you what happened." He ordered.

He sat at his desk, stretching his long legs. With an absent-minded air, he fingered through the mail until I set the steaming cup down in front of him.

Standing to the left of him, I folded my arms across my chest, "What did you find out Sheriff?" I asked again.

He gave me a squinted eye perusal as if trying to decide how much information he could trust me with. Finally, he began, "I followed the trail from Krause's north pasture, Spencer's men took the cattle through the Kettle Valley into the foot hills of the Table Mountains and into the Black Mesa. There be a small gorge, one the Injuns call "Kewask Makwonga" or "the devils pass" going through them hills and that be where they enter to the hideout."

I was aware he knew the general location of Spencer's stronghold, but I was surprised at his revelation, "You found the hideout?"

He studied me again, before nodding. "Spencer and his men occupy a little valley; the hills around it form a fortress as sturdy as any castle. He can post men atop the mesa and they stand guard keeping a close watch for any trespasser."

"You got through?"

"I did."

"How? Why would he let you in?"

"Let's just leave it at that boy, I got in, and I shared a few words with Spencer. I worked out a deal with him you see."

"A deal?" I'd never heard of a lawman making deals, the way I'd learned it, you don't make bargains with outlaws.

"We leave him be, he'll move his men outa here within the next six months, he says he's made about all he's gonna make on folks in this territory, time to head to greener pastures."

"But that's wrong, he's a thief and a murderer, he's gotta be brought to justice."

"Spencer and his kind will see justice, maybe not in this life but they'll see justice. In the meantime it ain't worth a lot of innocent lives. It ain't boy."

I was incredulous, how could any kind of lawman let something like this happen? I knew I wasn't the only one who would see it as a breach of trust. "How do you think the men of Rubicon are going to react to this, what will Harris say?"

"Parmly won't like it, but he'll see the right to it, as long as Spencer keeps his part of the pact and leaves us alone."

I moved closer leaning forward with my hands resting on his desk. I was in his face, "This is a coward's way out. You can't honestly believe you can trust a man like Verdon Spencer to keep his word?"

He slammed his coffee mug down on the desk so that the contents sloshed over the sides and onto the scared wood. Pushing himself to his feet he moved with a determined deliberateness to stand in front of me. There was more fire to him than I'd ever seen before except on the eve of the Battle of Chickamauga. He poked his forefinger into my chest, "Deputy, it don't matter what I think, it don't matter what you think, the only damn thing that matters is the people of this here town. If turning coward and running with my tail betwixt my legs will keep them that I care about safe and sound than that be the way it is."

I shook my head, "Men like Spencer have to be stopped or this country can't grow."

"As long as I'm the Sheriff we'll do things my way. You'd best be making your rounds. I want folks to know the presence of the badge in Rubicon."

I knew I'd overstepped my bounds as far as Gabe Maxwell was concerned but I couldn't help saying, "What good is a badge if it doesn't stand for something?"

"You be young Matthew, so I'm thinking there's a lot you've got to learn. Let this be a life lesson to you, it's not the badge that matters so much as the man behind it. Give that some thought lad."

**GS GS GS**

I'd done my rounds keeping the Trails End for the last stop. The noonday crowd was just filing in. The day promised heat and a number of Rubicon businessmen wanted to get a head start on their thirst. I scanned the large room and found Kitty behind the bar washing out glasses in a tin bowl filled with soapy water.

"Beer," I said, "make it two, one for the lady back there if she'll sit with me." Kitty turned around and smiled.

"Be my pleasure Cowboy." She replied, as she wiped her hands and walked around the bar to stand next to me. "Care to sit down?"

I nodded, "I've only got a minute." I explained following her to the back table.

"Yeah?" She said quizzically, "I thought you were supposed to be heading out of town looking for Gabe."

"So did I, but the sheriff got back to town last night."

"He's alright?"

"He's fine."

"I sense an unspoken `but'." She said intuitively.

"I don't know about him. Something isn't right." Before I could explain further, Wendell B. Taylor the stage clerk burst into the saloon. His ruddy face was dripping sweat and his eyes had a wild look to them, "There you are deputy, I've been looking all over fer ya."

"What is it Mr. Taylor?"

He was fighting for air, and his words came out with a jerky breathlessness, "Stage is late … near two hours, stranger just rode in … he claims he saw the burned out frame of the coach about eight miles out, it was still smoking … said he didn't wait to see if there was any bodies around."

I exchanged a quick worried look with Kitty before springing to my feet. The news had gained the attention of the saloon's patronage. The rumblings of the previous weeks rapidly took on new vigor. In the background I heard words like "time to take the law into our own hands," and "vengeance". Like a swarm of angry bees, the men left the building in a dark cloud. This time there would be no stopping them, and for once I was on their side.


	17. Chapter 17

**SEVENTEEN**

**Matt**

The posse numbered thirty armed men. Thirty hooves times four pounded away at the hard caked earth filling the air with thunder and trail dust; like a band of desperadoes our faces were covered with bandanas to keep the dirt from filling our lungs. Gabe Maxwell's huge bay gelding was reluctantly leading the pack; the sheriff had made the comment to me that he only hoped he could keep things from becoming a blood bath.

Up ahead we saw black buzzards circling in the sky in narrowing sweeps, a telltale sign of the grisly sight, which awaited us. It wasn't long before we came across the stage, the horses had been pulled from their traces and their trail pointed toward the Black Mesa some 20 miles southeast of where we were. I was standing next to Harris when Gabe called us over. Behind a clump of cattney bush was the broken body of Buck the driver. Bending down to one knee Gabe gently rolled him over. "Dear God." He breathed while making the sign of the cross. "No good man deserves that kind of end."

"I reckon it was War Hawk's Commancheros, who done this." Parm said, blinking hard. "Poor Buck." He turned away, looking into the distance toward the mountains.

There were several empty carpetbags and hatboxes strewn around the coach skeleton. Women's clothing was scattered on the ground. Charlie held up a small white dress about the size of one of Parm's daughters. "Wonder where the child who belongs to this is?"

Without saying another word, the riders returned to their mounts with grim determination. No one wanted to leave Buck to the turkey vultures, but we knew it was up to us to take care of the living. The dead would have to find their own peace. I glanced again at the little white dress, which now hung from Charlie's saddle horn. The thought of a woman and young child in the hands of War Hawk and Spencer's ruthless men brought the smart of bile to my throat.

Gabe held up his hand and the posse moved in close to hear what he was going to say, "I'm thinking we should split up, knowing the likes of Verdon Spencer, we might have a better chance of catching them devils, if we're not all traveling as one." There was a murmur of agreement among the group, and the sheriff continued, "There be two possible destinations they'd be high tailing it for. Parm you and the deputy head off toward Schaefer's Crossing, take about ten men with you, it seems to me that would be a likely place for them to settle in. The rest of you fellas follow me, we'll make tracks toward the Kettle Canyon."

The wind had picked up obliterating any chance of a marked trail making tracking impossible. Still we kept a look out for any sign that would bear out the reason for the ride to Schaefer's Crossing.

**GS GS GS**

There was an ill-omened feel to the abandoned way station. The empty corals were already littered with sage and tumbleweed. A distance away, the frame house showed signs of recent devastation, the outside walls were singed by fire, and all the windows were either cracked or busted out completely. The front door hung on broken hinges at an awkward angle partially open. Nothing was left of Jim Schaefer's home to testify to his life of hard work. It was the barn, which aroused my suspicion. The large building had housed the pride of the Overland Stage Company but those horses were gone and there was no reason for the door to be shut tight.

We were two hundred yards away when I raised my arm to rein in the men. "Don't look right to me deputy." Charlie stated with a wary voice.

I agreed, "I'd bet this badge, that barn's not empty, and I'm guessing we got a half dozen rifles aimed in our direction."

"If they got the woman and child in there we gotta get em out." One of the men declared.

"We won't do them no good by getting ourselves butchered Wally." Parm said, turning to me he asked, "You got something in mind Matt?"

I nodded, keeping my voice low, I did some fast-talking, "We'll ride on by, act like we don't suspect anything. Parm you and I will double back on foot, there's enough brush along the riverbank that we should be able to get back here without being noticed. The rest of you men will wait for the signal – three rapid shots fired in succession." They nodded sober faces in agreement. We'd traveled about a quarter mile, when Parm and I left the posse. We made our way along the riverbank, which provided excellent cover and would take us within yards of the rear of the barn.

One window faced the rear of the building. There was no outward sign of life, but once we stopped moving we could hear the nicker of a horse with in. "Keep me covered." I told Parm before I made a run for the barn, once there I heard voices confirming our hunch. I nodded in Parm's direction letting him know we were right. Keeping close to the building I moved around the structure to the side of the barn where a crack between the planks allowed me to view inside. The body of a pale haired child lay in a pile of hay, but I saw no sign of the woman or the team of draft horses. The men inside were divvying up the plunder from the stage.

"Weren't a bad deal, War Hawk got the horses and the woman, and we got the kid and the loot."

"Yeah, well fat lot of good the kid was." Another man chimed in. "Ya had to go and shoot her, Ollie?"

"She was making a run fer it."

"Hell you know Verdon don't abide by hurtin' kids."

"Well, now, he ain't never gonna know is he, unless you feel obliged to tell him?"

I counted four men. They were armed with six shooters and rifles. I took another glance at the child and saw her move, it was just a slight twitch but it confirmed life. The knowledge hit me she wouldn't be alive for long, unless we did something quick. I glanced back toward the river edge and motioned Parm to follow me. Keeping low he ran across the open field.

"They've got the girl." I said in a low voice.

"Let's go." He whispered and I nodded. With our guns in hand, we ran to the front of the building and with a solid kick slid open the barn door. All hell broke lose, for thirty seconds the air rained bullets. When it was over Spencer's men were dead. Parm moved to the little girl lying in the hay. Tears were welling in his eyes as he pushed the fair hair from her face. "She coulda been one of my girls."

"She still alive?" I asked.

Hastily he leaned an ear to her chest, and nodded, "Barely, we gotta get her back to Rubicon. Hope we can sober up Hellie Kraemer in time to save her."

**GS GS GS**

It was early dark when we returned to town, silent and grim. We parted company at Hermie Moser Furniture and Undertaker Shop where several of the men unloaded the bodies of the dead outlaws. Parm and I continued down the street, heading to the Widow Sasse's with the little girl. Halfway there, the rancher reined in his horse, the still form of the child lay cradled in his arms, "Deputy, maybe you'd best get Kraemer. He's most likely at the Gray Dove; hopefully he's sober enough to do this here little gal some good."

I replied, "I'll track him down." I tied my horse to a hitching rail with access to a water trough and set out on foot.

I'd come to know after a few weeks of making the early night rounds in Rubicon that Hellie Kraemer was partial to a spot under the back stairway at the dry good store. I'd often find him sitting there nursing a bottle and watching the stars come out while singing some old German song. Luck was with us, Hellie was under the stairs and the bottle was still ¾ full.

"You up to doing some doctoring Hellie?" I asked.

"Fer you?" he questioned.

I shook my head, "No, a little girl, over at the Widow's place. She's been shot."

"Auch du Gott, who vould do such a ting?"

I gave him my hand and pulled him to his feet. "Spencer's men." I answered. "You got a medical bag?"

He shook his head, "Long time ago, someone stolt it, vas mein papa's."

By the time we arrived at the boarding house Gin Sasse had gotten the child to bed and was working at cleaning out the wound. She turned from her task to give the medical man a once over. "I've got a pot of good strong coffee brewing on the stove if you be needing it Mr. Kraemer."

"Ja, just da cobvebs to clean avay."

She stood, placing the rag back in the bowl of water on the bedside table," I'll be bringing you a cup then sir."

I'd had my doubts that Helmut Kraemer, the fix it man and town drunk, possessed enough medical knowledge and sound mind to do the little girl any good, but those doubts were soon erased as I watched the gentle efficient care he gave to the child.

From the hallway I heard Parm talking with his daughters, "But Daddy, why can't we see the little girl you found?" The younger of the two asked.

"Because little princess, she's been hurt, she needs to rest before she's up to playing with the likes of you. Come on you two, I'll tuck you into bed and read you that story you're so partial to."

"Ohhh, Cinderella!" I heard small hands clapping together.

"Yeah, the one with that there Prince Charming feller."

I smiled listening to the exchange, and for just a moment I wondered what it would be like having some child call me `daddy'. Well, that wasn't a circumstance likely to happen in my lifetime.

The wounded girl was resting comfortably when Hellie finally rose to his feet and walked to Gin, "She vill sleep now. I tink she vill be fine. You vill sit vit her, ja?"

"Yes Mr. Kraemer, I will sit with her, I've some Gold Barrel in the pantry, can I interest you in a drink?

Without a smile he shook his head, "Ven ve know for sure about das little madechen, den you give me da bottle."

She patted his hand, "It's a deal sir. You look tired, there's a free bed on the summer porch if you'd like."

He nodded, "Ja, dat I vould like."

He left and it was just Gin Sasse and I in the room with the sleeping child, she moved back to the chair next to the bed and sat down, without looking away from the child the Widow asked, "Gabriel come back with you Deputy?"

"No Ma'am, we split up, he took two thirds of the posse and headed toward Kettle Canyon."

She lovingly ran her fingers through the childs tangled hair; her voice was flat, "War Hawk's roost."

I nodded, "So they say." Taking the wet cloth from the bowl she wrung it out, there was tension and worry to the way she held her frame. I sought to reassure her, "Gabe Maxwell's a sly old fox; I'm sure everything will be fine Mrs. Sasse."

She jerked her body around to look at me, "Saints preserve us, of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"If you don't need me for anything Ma'am, I think I'd better be checking in at the office and make the rounds."

She nodded slowly and turned her attentions back to the sleeping waif, "You'll go after them tomorrow, won't you?"

"Yes'm."

She released some of the tension with a sigh, "good." She murmured. I turned and left quietly shutting the door behind me.

On my way out, I met Parm Harris in the kitchen, "I'm headin fer the Trails End, can I buy you a beer Deputy?" he asked.

Although I had a strong need to see Kitty, the pull of duty to the job was stronger, "Maybe later." I replied, not willing to rule out the idea completely.

He smiled, "You're kind a sweet on Miss Cassie ain't you?"

"She's a nice kid." I answered guardedly.

His smile broadened, "Yeah, well, I'll say a `howdy' for you."

I couldn't afford to let my mind be clouded by personal feelings. The burden of the badge was weighing heavier than usual on my chest, I understood a little more of what Gabe was talking about, when he spoke of keeping the peace in Rubicon and the knowledge came to me that this was the hallmark of a seasoned lawman. Tonight with a good number of Rubicon's bravest tracking down Verdon Spencer, and half the undertaker's ready coffins filled with the outlaw's henchmen, my obligation to Gabe Maxwell's town was clear.

Still, I couldn't help but end up at the Trails End as the last stop on my rounds. I saw Kitty sitting at a round table engaged in a game of poker. Her face lit up at the sight of me, "Last hand fellas." I heard her say. There was some good-natured grumbling to follow her order, but she was standing by my side in less than five minutes.

"That was a pretty fast last hand." I said in greeting.

She smiled and the badge melted from my mind, "I folded with a pair of Aces just to get to see you before you left again. Parm filled me in on what was going on, I didn't figure on you stopping by."

"Yeah, I can't stay."

"I know and I understand Matt. Just, please take care."

"I will, you too." I leaned in closer and lowered my voice, "you know as long as there are wanted posters with your picture on them, you're not safe."

Her hand brushed mine and even that brief contact was electric. "Someday Matt, we will look back on this time and smile." Our eyes met saying the words our lips were forbidden to utter.

I nodded and drank my whiskey in one gulp. I took comfort in the warm trail of the liquid as it traveled down my gullet. The badge was back, stronger than ever. "See you later." I promised both of us knowing `later' could be a lifetime away.


	18. Chapter 18

**EIGHTEEN**

After leaving Kitty, I returned to the Sheriff's office determined to get my mind focused back on the task at hand. I'd be on the trail again in the morning and I wanted to be ready. I restocked my supply of ammunition and added a couple extra rifles to my reserve. When my task was accomplished I sat down at Gabe's desk and helped myself to swig from the whiskey bottle he kept in the bottom drawer. I hadn't seen Maxwell touch the liquor, and from all appearances I reckoned he kept the bottle of Gold Barrel as a hospitable gesture to his visitors.

The badge on my chest was a heavy weight that night and I took a moment to study it. Unpinning the tin star from my shirt I let it rest in the palm of my hand. I read, _Deputy Sheriff_, out loud. With the saying of the words, the reason for its weight became obvious; the time had come to take off the deputy badge and replace it with the one in my pocket, which read, _U.S. Marshal_. I hesitated for a moment before completing the act, knowing as great as the burden had been it would increase ten fold.

It was late by the time I returned to Mrs. Sasse's. The boarding house was quiet, all of its inhabitants asleep. I locked the kitchen door and went up the back stairs and down the long hallway leading to my quarters. On my way I passed the room where the wounded child was. I opened the door and in the dim lamp light, saw her sleeping peacefully. Mrs. Sasse was still in the chair beside the bed. Her eyes were closed and her head was nodding in rhythm to her breathing. In her hands were a pair of knitting needles and on her lap, the unfinished socks she was making. There was a draft that night, and I was concerned the Widow might take on a chill. I quietly moved into the room picked up a loosely knit blanket at the foot of the bed and draped it over her. Immediately she opened her eyes. When she saw it was me she smiled. She kept her voice low so as not to wake up the sleeping girl. "Thank you, I must have dozed off."

"I'll be heading out early in the morning." I informed her.

"God's speed to you then Deputy, I'll be saying my prayers that you and the rest of the men from Rubicon will stay clear of harm's way, and we'll not have to worry any longer about Verdon Spencer or the men of his like. Bend down so I can give that handsome cheek of yours a kiss for good luck."

I smiled and obeyed her request. She bestowed the kiss with a blessing, "Fair thee well, Matthew. May the saints preserve you, keep you from harm, and lead you safely home again."

"Thank you." I replied, touched by her benediction.

There was a whimper from the little girl and the Widow quickly dismissed me. "Off with you then." She said, rising from the chair to tend to the child.

**GS GS GS **

My room was lit from the gas lamp outside my window; but I was too tired to draw the curtains to darken the room. I kicked off my boots and lay on the bed not bothering to undress, I figured on having maybe four hours until sunrise and I didn't want to waste them on something I'd just have to redo in the morning. I was a light sleeper; my experiences working as a drover and soldier and later a law man had honed my talent to rest body while keeping a part of my mental process alert to the threat of danger. I reckon I'd been sleeping less than an hour when a ruckus coming from the downstairs awoke me. I listened for a moment before getting out of bed. I gauged the sounds to be coming from the kitchen. Quickly pulling on my boots I grabbed my gun and left the room to investigate. I took the back stairs moving as quietly as I could. At the bottom of the steps I flattened myself against the wall in the hallway just outside the kitchen door.

"Verdon Spencer, you just be getting yourself out of my house. I'm telling you true, I am nothing to Gabe Maxwell, there be no strings binding him to any woman. The only thing in life that means a damn to him is that badge and the people it protects."

"Still the spunky one ain't ya Gin Sasse. I'd a thought the years would have taken the edge off a that. You still be right perty too."

"Get your hands off me; you're nothing but a cowardly devil … always were and always will."

He snorted with humor. "I told Gabriel there'd be a price to pay for welch'in on our deal; I warned him I did what would happen. I got me four men dead, and one of `em's a half brother. Now, he weren't worth all that much, but the other three were, and blood begets blood, no one knows that lesson better'n dear Gabriel."

My heart drummed a fast beat in my chest. I had the drop on Verdon Spencer. I tightened the hold on the revolver in my hand and inched toward the doorway to get a look at the room. Mrs. Sasse was fighting Spencer's hold as he pushed her to the door. Not giving my action thought, I burst into the room with the gun aimed at the outlaw.

"Hold it right there." I ordered. "Step away from the woman with your hands up Spencer." From behind the door one of the outlaw's men raised a rifle butt and cold cocked me on the side of the head, I fell in a heap to the floor.

**GS GS GS**

I woke up sometime later with first light blinding my eyes. "Lay still deputy, Mr. Harris is getting Mr. Kraemer." My head was pillowed in the folds of Yolanda Boman's flannel clad lap. There was a pounding in my skull that made thought painful. "Mrs. Sasse…" I managed to say.

Her voice was firm as befit one accustomed to giving orders, "Quiet now. Close your eyes; you've suffered a severe blow."

I did as the teacher ordered, not because she said so but because my mind was suddenly washed in a wave of darkness. When I came to again I was in the front parlor, awkwardly lying on the sofa with my legs propped on the armrest and hanging off the end. My eyes felt like penny weights were holding them closed, I forced them open. The room was spinning and I quickly shut them again.

A voice near me whispered sweet and low, "Hello Cowboy. Welcome back" In spite of the spinning I opened my eyes and focused on the lady at my side.

"Ki …" I started to say.

"Shhhh." She hushed with a finger to my lips. "Yes it's me Cassie. You've got a goose egg growing on the side of your head. Hellie says it's sure to have "rattled your `noggin'" a bit. He wants you to rest. In a little while we'll try to get you up to your room."

Despite feeling like I was recovering from a four-day binge I glanced around the parlor. Parm Harris was pacing back and forth puffing on the cigar in his mouth with his hands locked behind his back, in the corner Flossie and the teacher sat side by side rolling bandages. The picture was incomplete but I couldn't get it into focus, "Mrs. Sasse?" I asked.

Like a flash Parm rushed to my side, "Do you remember what happened Deputy? Sure as hell fire, it had to be Spencer's men that came and took her."

With a shove Kitty pushed him away from me, "Leave him be Parm. He's hurt, he can't help you none, just leave him be."

My arm felt like lead, but I raised it and ran a hand over my eyes trying to wipe away the fog. I knew I had to sit up, and then get to my feet, I knew I had a job to do, why or what wasn't quite clear, and it was still lost in the confusion of my mind.

"Please Matt, rest. You could harm yourself if you don't." She pressed her hand to my chest and it took more strength than I could afford to spend to force it away. But I did. I swung my legs off the sofa to the floor and sat up, then fell back again.

"Matt…" She urged one last time, and then gave up trying to hold me back and instead sat beside me to serve as a prop. It took a moment before I could work through the feeling of disorientation. I lifted my hand to gingerly feel the bump on my head, but a bandage kept me from coming into contact with the injury. The fog cleared and the picture became complete as I explained, "I came downstairs last night when I heard a noise - it was Spencer, he had Mrs. Sasse, I tried to stop him, but I was careless, I figured he was alone." I kept the knowledge of the `deal' to myself, unsure how much I should share. Using the armrest and Kitty's shoulder I pushed myself to my feet. "I gotta go after them."

She jumped to her feet, positioning herself in front of me, trying to block my progress with her thin frame, "You can't." Kitty declared.

As gently as I could I moved her aside. "I don't have a choice, you know that."

Harris took in our exchange with a thoughtful eye before saying, "I'll get the horses." He turned to leave the room but was stopped by Flossie's worried expression. Changing direction he walked to the saloon girl, who rose to her feet to meet him. Placing his hands on her arms he pulled her close. He said the words loud enough for the room to serve as witness to his wishes, "I'm leaving my girls in your care, you'll watch over them for me won't you?" She nodded her answer. He kissed her cheek tenderly, "Good, and when this is all over, we can set our minds to being a family."

Her body shivered in his arms. I realized she was trying hard to hold back her tears. She stuck out her chin a might, calling on bravado for starch, "You take care of yourself and don't worry none about us, we'll be fine." She pulled back and trailed her fingers over the side of his face; standing on her toes she lifted her lips until they met with his.


	19. Chapter 19

**NINETEEN**

**MATT**

I took one backward look at Rubicon as we rode out of town. Kitty was still standing in the street watching us ride away. She raised her fingers to her lips in farewell. I gave her one last nod before turning my attentions to what lie in front of me.

"I notice you're sporting a new look there Deputy" Parm Harris said as he pulled out a cigar from his vest pocket. "Care fer a stogie?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. My head was pounding and I was in no frame of mind for guessing games.

"Stogie? Cigar." He replied with a chuckle clearly enjoying my confusion.

"No, what did you mean about a new look?"

"Well Deputy," he laughed. "I guess I'd better get used to calling you Marshal, if what that badge hiding under your vest says is true. Maybe its time you laid your cards on the table. Me and you are off to fight the bad guys, it's a risky business and I like to know who's fighting at my side. I ain't sure about you boy. I keep trying to add things up, now I may not have been the best student as a kid, only went through the third grade, but I was always right good at ciphering."

"Name's Dillon, Matt Dillon, I'm a U.S. Marshal outa Dodge City, Kansas."

"Mighty impressive fer a kid. Here I was thinking a deputy badge was more than you could handle… well, pleased to meet you Marshal Dillon. I reckon there's more to the story than that … I kinda got it figured it has to do with our little Miss Cassie back at the Trails End."

The only answer I gave was a nod of the head. Harris took his time to light the cigar and enjoy a few puffs giving me the opportunity to expand on the nod, but I didn't.

He chuckled in his saddle, "Well, Marshal, I reckon there will be a few shared campfires before this is all through, surprising how a man talks about heart and home when he's far from both." He stretched his back and adjusted his hat brim to the angle of the sun. "I `spect you and I will know one hell of a lot more about each other by the time we ride into Rubicon again." He jabbed his spurs into the sides of the black and white paint he was riding, and the gelding took off. I gave a nudge to the buckskin's flanks just to keep up. Ahead of us lay the Kettle Canyon and the Black Mesa and a showdown withVerdon Spencer.

**KITTY**

I stood my ground in the middle of the street for longer than necessary watching Matt and Parm ride out of town. Flossie came out to join me. I heard her sniffle and figured she was crying but I didn't turn to look at her. I heaved a sigh as the last of the trail dust cleared on the horizon, "I guess it's time we headed back to the saloon; Ferd will have our hides as it is."

"I'm not going back Sweetie, at least not to work." Flossie declared. "You heard Parm, he asked me to watch over his girls, and there's that little wounded gal they brought in yesterday, who's gonna take care of her with the Widow gone?"

I inwardly winced at the thought of Gin Sasse taken captive by Verdon Spencer but her fate was out of my control; it was Flossie I had to be concerned with, "You haven't exactly made fast friends with Parm's daughters."

She nodded in agreement, "Regina and Philomena might not like me, but I figure they need me, even if they don't know it and that's gotta count fer something."

I studied her face, "You're serious?" I asked.

"I've never been more serious." She looped an arm around my elbow and chuckled at my look of worry. With the intent to appease my anxiety she said, "It'll be alright Sweetie, please don't worry. Come on, I'll walk you back, I guess I've got some clothes to collect along with a few unmentionables." With a giggle she added, "Parm wants us to start being a family, now you know that's not gonna work with me pitching my wares and selling beer."

I laughed out loud, "Nope, I don't think the Parents League at Rubicon School would approve. But, I am going to miss you."

"I'll be right down the street if you need me, and I can't help but think as soon as this business is over, that young deputy is gonna toss you on the back of his buckskin and whisk you back home to Dodge."

It seemed a day destined for change; Loretta was stationed behind the bar when we walked in arm and arm. She had a sour look on her face, "Bout time you two got your asses back to work, the floor ain't been swept, and there's a pile of glasses to be wiped out before the afternoon crowd starts pouring in?"

"Who died and made you boss Loretta." Flossie asked.

Loretta thrust her bosom forward, without a doubt she was feeling full of herself, "Ferd's acting deputy while the posse's out."

Flossie looked at her with disbelief, "How the hell did that happen?"

Loretta's nose was pointing toward the ceiling, "Not that it's any of your business," she sniped, "but, he said someone's gotta watch over Rubicon, what with Gabe and the posse riding out and Parm and the deputy heading out again this morning. Ferdie talked to Parm down at the stable, and Harris said to go ahead pin on a badge and keep an eye on things."

"Parm can't appoint a deputy; he's not even one himself!" Flossie laughed, "More than likely he was just telling Ferd that to get rid of him. Leave it to that big dumb oaf to take him seriously!"

I wasn't laughing, my heart was in my throat at the thought of Ferd Kutz sitting at Gabe's desk, going through the lawman's drawers and coming across a wanted poster with my name on it. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I assured myself of Gabe's promise to destroy the papers. There hadn't been mail in town for the last couple days, what with the stage line down, so I comforted myself with the notion that if the real law got back to town anytime soon I was safe.

Loretta had moved around the bar and was standing in front of us with her hands framing her hips. "Well, it don't matter none, because as long as Ferd is running the town, I'm running the Trails End. That means you two work for me, and you gotta do what I say!"

"Count me out Loretta, I just got me a new job!" Flossie stated triumphantly, "I only came back to pack up and move out."

There was a definite change in Loretta's demeanor, "What are you talking about, Flossie, you can't leave … who's gonna work the floor?"

"Guess you'll have to figure it out on your own Sweetie. Like you said, you're the boss."

**GS GS GS**

I was sweeping up the floor when Flossie came down the stairs with a carpetbag in each hand. She walked up to me and set the bags on a nearby table. Holding out her arms she invited me to an embrace of friendship, when she pulled away she said, "Take good care Sweetie." Reaching into her pocket she took something out and placed it hurriedly in mine so as not to let Loretta see. She whispered low and fast, "You'll need this lot more than I will." She gave my hand a quick squeeze, picked up her bags and bid the Trails End goodbye. "Lot's a luck to you Loretta," she called. "You're gonna need it!"

"Humph, what did she mean by that?" Loretta asked from her fortress behind the bar.

"I wouldn't even want to guess." I answered. My hand was already in my pocket searching out the gift my friend had left me. My fingers came in contact with the compact metal of Flossie's Philadelphia Derringer. I tried not to smile as I recalled the ad in an old edition of the Gentlemen's Periodical which sat back on a table by the stove, the banner across the page called it _".45 Calibers of Life Insurance - 7 3/4 inches of percussion pistol precision." _I called it a godsend.

Business was quiet that day, a couple of drifters stopped in and I managed to serve them liquor and beat them at a game or two of poker. Many of our town regulars were out on Gabe's posse, or staying home hiding behind drawn shades. Most cowhands from the area ranches were sticking close to the herds; the threat of Spencer's men rustling their stock was too great to leave the cattle loosely guarded.

Ferd stopped by the saloon around closing; our only customer at that late time was Georgie Potter who had been keeping me company for the last hour. With the badge pinned smack dab in the middle of his chest, Kutz reminded me a dog I'd seen once on the streets of St. Louis. The squat beast had the same heavy jowls and thick body as the bartender; they even walked with an identical rolling gait. The name came to me that the animal was called a bulldog; somehow the name fit Ferdie as well.

He didn't pay me the time of day, but went right to Loretta to check her bookwork, which I suspected was even worse than his own. He shut the ledger loudly and then turned on the brassy red head, "You're gonna drive me to the poor house. What are you doing, scaring the customers away before they get through the door, just so you don't have to work? Or are you doctoring up my books, stealing me blind? I should give you the sack you lazy bitch."

Loretta was inching her way along the bar getting ready to run if Ferd turned really nasty. She whined, "But Ferdie, most of the men have left town with the posse, there's no one to sell liquor to."

Georgie had been listening to the tirade and he chimed in, "She's right Ferd only men too crippled to set a horse for long or too fat to get up in the saddle are left in Rubicon. If you ask me we're wide open to disaster. If I were you wearing that badge I'd figure out some sort of plan to fight off Spencer if'n he decides to hit town."

Kutz looked a little like a balloon with a leak, he seemed to deflate in front of our eyes. He blew air from his mouth several times before answering, "Hell, if Spencer hits town, it's every man for hisself."

For once, there was no twinkle to Georgie's eyes just a keen understanding of his fellow man, "Yeah, I figured as much, so why are you wearing that badge Kutz?" he asked.

"Never you mind Potter; it's closing time, you'd best get your sorry carcass out on the street, unless you got Saint Puss here convinced to open up her pearly gates and then my friend it'll cost you, cost you dearly."

Georgie narrowed his eyes and I could tell he was debating the merits of punching Ferd in the nose. Of course it would have been an unfair battle since Ferd had two good legs and outweighed Georgie by one hundred pounds. I didn't doubt Georgie would have won hands down; courage always wins out over cowardliness, but I was concerned that he might be hurt in the scrap. He opted to postpone the showdown, "I'll be on my way Ferd." He turned to me and tipped his hat, "It would pleasure me Cassie to have breakfast with you in the morning, say around nine o'clock at Mrs. Webster's Dining Hall?"

I smiled at the sweet invitation. "Oh Georgie, I don't think Irmagaard would approve."

He scratched his chin, "I suppose you're right, tell you what, I'll bring breakfast here."

"It's a date." I said leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek sealing the bargain.

"Walk him to the door puss and lock up." Ferd ordered from behind the bar where he was downing his third glass of rotgut. "Loretta you get your flabby butt up stairs, you done enough damage fer one day." Loretta stomped across the bar room floor and let out a moan that her hard work hadn't been appreciated before she scooted up the stairs as fast as she could to her room. The slam of her bedroom door shook the lanterns hanging from the ceiling and echoed through the empty bar.

I pushed Georgie out onto the boardwalk before he had a chance to reconsider the showdown. "I'll see you in the morning." I promised.

I'd not seen Kutz drunk before but this was clearly his intention, and the prospect wasn't a pleasant one. I took a look at the door, which lead to my room, it suddenly seemed like a long distance to cover. I had half a mind to unlock the door and run from the bar and spend the night at the Widow Sasse's place. The only thing, that kept me from doing so, was the money I had stashed in my room. Ordinarily I would have transferred my money to the pocket I'd sewn inside my dress, but today had been anything but ordinary.

My hand dropped to the pocket and my fingers found the derringer from Flossie, I didn't even know for sure if it was loaded, but it was a comfort to wrap my fingers around the metal. I had no intention of using it for I was certain gutless Ferd would back off before it became necessary, still the weapon's presence provided its much touted insurance. With my hand still in the pocket, I stiffened my backbone and began the walk across the saloon floor. Faster than I would have thought a heavy man could move he was in front of me blocking my way.

This was a game that I hadn't the patience to play, "Step aside Ferd, it's been a long day and I want to go to bed."

He laughed, "Well so do I pussy, so do I." He lifted a hand to finger the black tendrils, which had escaped the pins holding my hair in place. "By god, you are a pretty one."

He'd beaten me once, and I'd vowed it would never happen again. "Get your hands off me."

"What's the matter pussy, I thought you liked the badge? Don't think I didn't notice how you sneaked off at night to let the badge in the back door, don't think I wasn't informed by Loretta of everything that was going on. I wasn't about to make trouble with that big kid, figured maybe you didn't have a choice, him being the law and all. Well now I'm wearing the badge." He was slowly pushing me backward until we bumped into the bar. I was trapped behind his body.

His hands became brash and moved down my low back until they settled with forceful pressure on my buttocks. "I figure you and I should be better friends, we got off to a bad start. But that was because I didn't understand how you wanted it." His breath was hot on my neck,and I cringed under the searing stench. He forced my body backward over the bar and it hurt, but my right hand remained in my pocket never losing contact with the gun. I hissed through my teeth, "I said … get your hands off me."

With ragged breaths he replied, "A little piss to the vinegar, eh?" A grunt escaped from deep in his throat as he ground his hips ground against mine bruising my flesh to the bone.

With one quick move, I worked the gun from my pocket and poked it square in his lower abdomen. "I won't say it again Kutz, get your hands off me or I swear I'll blow you to hell."

It took a couple beats before he realized the tables had turned and it was he at a disadvantage. His eyes traveled down the length of our bodies to the gun in my hand. "You'd never get away with it." His bluster was fading; a beady sweat had broken out on his forehead.

I jabbed the gun in the direction of his manhood, "I could hang in eternal damnation and it would beat the alternative Fatso." He backed away, and I added ice, cold and hard to my voice, "Walk to the door with your hands high, open it and get the hell out, or I swear I'll shoot you dead."

His hands flew up and he started backing away, the whiskey had made him clumsy and he nearly tripped once. He didn't turn around until he reached the door, he fumbled momentarily with the lock before turning the knob and letting himself out, but he stopped with one foot on the boardwalk and one on the saloon floor, a mask of evil covered his face and I had no doubt the words he uttered were true, "I'll make you pay for this puss; one day, I'll sure as hell make you pay."


	20. Chapter 20

**TWENTY**

I weighed my options and the scale came up short. I was in deep trouble; disaster had been postponed, but not averted. Coward though he was, I had no doubt Kutz would exact a measure of revenge. I paced the small perimeters of my locked room and was again reminded of its resemblance to a jail cell.

Sleep accounted for only a miniscule portion of my night. A sense of impending doom compelled me to repack my saddlebags making sure there were provisions for a quick escape; the rest of it was spent playing the angles as I dealt out endless hands of solitaire. With sunrise I changed from yesterday's dress, to my blue skirt and white shirtwaist. I had decided to lay my problems in Georgie's lap. I needed help and for the moment Flossie's hands were full and I had no desire to put her and the girls at risk.

The doors to the Trails End officially opened at eleven o'clock but I was out front at eight waiting for Georgie's arrival. To kill time, I swept the floor and made a pot of coffee and then set a table for the breakfast he had promised to bring. At five to nine there was a fast series of raps on the door.

I heard his muted voice from the other side as I unhooked the chain and turned the lock. "Miss Cassie let me in." He was out of breath and panting a bit, "We got trouble." Georgie declared as I opened the door and he quickly slipped in. He limped over to a chair and sat down. "Damn leg," he cursed, "still don't know how the hell something that ain't even there can pain so dadburn much."

As I poured the freshly brewed coffee into our mugs I asked, "Can I get you something stronger to ease the hurt?"

He shook his head, "It gets some better as the day goes along, besides we got us bigger problems."

Sitting down across from him, I sipped my coffee, "I know, but how did you find out? I can't imagine Ferd having the crust to talk about it."

He was surprised, "I don't think Kutz knows yet Miss Cassie, but when he finds out, sure as shit, your, begging your pardon, ass is fried."

It came to me quick that we were talking about two different matters, and neither one sounded like it was going to tip those scales I'd spent the night working on in my favor. "Georgie, maybe you'd better take a sip of that coffee and explain yourself."

"There's a sayin, `a picture's worth a heap of words.' Ever hear'd that?" He asked.

"Yeah?'

"There's a man rode into town this morning, he was at Webster's Dining Hall eating breakfast. The place was full and the waiter told me it would be a spell before he had our tray ready so this fella asks me if I'd like to sit down at his table. He could see I was moving kinda slow."

Cold fear reached out and grabbed my heart and I thought it would explode from the pressure, "Get to the point Georgie."

His words kept time with the rapid pounding in my chest, "Well, I sat at the table, and I asked him what brought him to town, and he says he's a U.S. Marshal. I'm thinking if ever a town needed a Federal man, it's gotta be Rubicon, any law we can call our own is off chasing bandits and looking for stolen women."

I reached across the table and grabbed his hand in a death grip. "Georgie." I hissed.

Potter looked at me, hard, like a judge getting ready to pass his verdict. He must have found me innocent because he smiled just a hint. "I know why you thought you had to get out of town a few weeks back Miss Cassie." He pulled out a poster from his back pocket and spread it out on the table in front of me.

I swallowed hard as my image stared back at me from the wanted poster. I looked back up at Georgie, "Does Barger know I'm here?"

"He will soon enough. You may not be a redhead anymore, but there ain't a man in Rubicon that hasn't memorized every feature of your pretty face. Even if they don't mean to give your identity away one of 'em will." My hand was still clinging to his and he squeezed it some, "Miss Cassie, we got a get you out of Rubicon."

"Matt said if there was trouble to head East to Lebanon, Texas."

"There ain't no stage coming to town."

"I'll need a horse. Can I use yours?"

"Mine ain't big enough or fast enough to make it that far." He thought for a moment, "Parm's got himself a couple extra horses down at the stable. I don't reckon he'd mind letting you use one. Get yourself changed and I'll have the horse out back in a half hour."

"So little time." I whispered trying to slow down the wild spin of my mind.

"Ma'am, we ain't even got that much time. Now get going."

I sprang from the table and headed to my room I heard Georgie leaving the saloon as the door between us slammed shut. Once in my room I thanked the fates that had forewarned this calamity, the packed saddlebags would save me precious time. I stripped from my skirt and blouse, and let my petticoats fall to the floor, kicking them out of my way I hurried to my makeshift dresser and pulled out the work pants and faded denim shirt. I caught sight of my reflection in the cracked mirror, and decided to bind my breasts before donning the shirt. I grabbed the letter Matt had instructed me to give Sheriff Ray Moser upon my arrival in Lebanon and slipped it between the binding. My possessions were few, and the only real value I had was in the money and the black onyx jewelry from Matt. The jewelry I put in the saddlebag and the money in the foot of my boots. Dressed not much differently from my arrival in Rubicon I finished by pinning my hair tight so it wouldn't show from under the old Stetson. I strapped on the gun belt Doc had given me back in Dodge and slid the derringer down my boot. I glanced back at my reflection and was takenback for just a second, and I wondered if I would ever recognize the real me again.

I was about to steal out the back door when I remembered the Wanted Poster, I couldn't recall seeing Georgie pick it up and I knew I couldn't afford to leave it lying around. I crossed my fingers that no one else had made their way into the saloon, luck was with me, the room was empty and the poster was still on the table where we'd left it. Hastily I folded it and shoved it in my pocket.

Georgie was waiting around back with Parm's big black gelding. The animal was equipped with a fine saddle and shotgun along with two canteens and a bedroll.

"You do fast work." I complimented. "You'll explain to Parm won't you?"

He nodded, "I figure he owes me some. After all he got my girl."

"And I owe you Georgie. Thank you for being my friend."

I handed Georgie my bags before I stuck a foot in the stirrup and pulled myself onto the back of the huge animal.

"God's speed Miss Kitty." He said, handing my saddlebags back to me.

I swallowed hard and a touched a finger to the brim of my hat in return. I nudged the powerful horse and he took off. The sun was shining in my eyes, and the wind whipping my face, we were headed east, going too fast to look back.

**GS GS GS**

I called the horse Doc, for he seemed to have a mind of his own; I was fast learning to trust his judgment, as he averted pothole and dodged rattlesnake. For the time being I let the gelding set the pace. The sun was baking hot, scorching the exposed flesh of my face and hands to a fiery red. The faded blue of my shirt was stained dark from my sweat and the rough canvas pants chaffed at my legs. Adjusting the Stetson, I scanned our surroundings for some shelter against the heat, but there was nothing that would provide an adequate shield to hide us.

It was sometime later that I reined Doc in near a small thicket by a shallow pool of water. My body was stiff as I climbed out of the saddle - the calves of my legs threatening to cramp up. Running a dry tongue over cracked lips, I led the horse to cover. There by the grassy bank we drank side by side until I'd quenched by thirst. Despite the pain in the back of my legs I forced myself back to my feet, Doc was still drinking and he balked at the tug I gave to his reins but I couldn't afford to let him drink too much too soon. I walked him to a cottonwood where he could graze on the sweet cool grass. My arms felt like lead, and it took all the energy I could muster to work free the cinch and pull the saddle from his back. Running my hand over his hide I checked for signs that he'd been galled from the hot sweaty ride. I used the saddle blanket to wipe away the trail grime and sweat, and then laid it in the sun to dry.

I let him graze and rest, while I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out a scissor I'd placed there the night before. I had a job to do here far from everything I held near to my heart. Taking off my hat I shook my hair free of its pins. I knew, just as I had in my last escape that my hair was a true giveaway. There wasn't much more I could do to mask it except for doing away with it. My hair had always been my glory; it evoked passionate responses from lovers and jealous remarks from women who hadn't been similarly blessed. Parting with it was like parting with my soul, but I had no choice, I pushed sentiment to a far corner of my mind. Pulling the dark strands together high atop my head, I closed my eyes and began cutting it off. I expected a hurt for I'd never before cut its length, but the pain didn't come. When I was finished my hair was as short as one of Bessie Roniger's sons. With my tightly bound breasts, and the absence of powder, rouge and coal to highlight my face I figured I could easily pass for a young man. Before setting out on the trail again, I buried my hair in a shallow grave.

**GS GS GS**

I suppose some part of me was hoping against hope to meet up with an ally on the way, but I did not. I kept moving east, praying I was on the trail to Lebanon and trusting my sense of direction and the position of the sun to be true. Texas was an ever-changing landscape, which could alternate from pleasant hill country to barren wasteland in a matter of miles. I kept a keen eye frequently checking the trail in front of me and behind me. At one point I saw a small band of what I assumed to be Commancheros in the distance. I had to suppose they were War Hawk's men and as such were to be considered extremely dangerous. The truth of the matter was anyone I met in this arena was not to be trusted.

We stopped again in late afternoon, this time in a small clearing atop a high rise that gave me perspective on the trail ahead. Taking my bearings I determined if the cloudless sky persisted throughout the night, I'd have enough moonlight to travel by. From my vantage point I calculated I could make another ten miles before stopping again, even if I rested a couple hours I was sure I could make Lebanon by mid-afternoon the next day.

I figured it was somewhere after midnight when I pulled the horse to a stop. I'd been fighting sleep in the saddle for the last hour and had actually drifted off a few times. I roused myself enough to scout the landscape searching for any sign of human habitation. I was in a timbered area and the cold damp air around me was filled with the sounds of hoot owl, and screeching bat. Tree limb hands aiming bony fingers at my courage marked the night shadows. I had only enough reserve to tie Doc up to a tree, and pull out my bedroll before I collapsed on the scratchy blanket and fell into a deep sleep. I suspect I'd slept four or five hours because sunlight and voices awakened me.

It took only a heart beat for me to remember my circumstances. I jumped from the bedroll and moved to Doc's side. He nickered and I quickly covered his muzzle with my arms. "Shhhh" I warned. Through a web of timbered brush I could see riders passing by on the trail not more than 15 feet away.

I strained my ears to make out what they were saying, I recognized the first voice immediately, "No way in hell that puss coulda gotten this far Marshal Barger. My guess is she didn't even come this way."

"She was seen riding East outa town Mr. Kutz."

"That don't mean nothing. She coulda doubled back, could be she headed south toward the Mesa, if she's as bad as you say she is, she could be in cahoots with Spencer. Why now that I think of it, Spencer came to see her one night, course they made it look like he'd never seen her before, but most likely that was all an act."

The other man's reply was lost in the muffle of brush and hoof beat, but I had no doubt they'd be turning around soon and hiding in the timber might not save me a second time. I silently apologized to Doc as I quickly tied my bedroll on to the saddle he'd worn since the day before. I grabbed the reins and walked ahead of the horse leading him at right angle to the path Barger and Kutz were taking. We came to a small riverbed, the water had dried to an insignificant flow, but it afforded an easy trail away from the main route. I pulled my self on Doc's back and gave him his head, hoping he would lead us to safety. He took a few moments adjusting to the difference in terrain, stepping daintily over the rocky bed until he became familiar with wet slippery stones underfoot, his speed increased to a slow lope. As close as I could figure it we would end up a quarter of a mile below the trail Barger and Kutz were on. The brush lessened until it disappeared completely leaving only stink bush and sage for cover. In the distance I could see a large stand of cottonwood and pine, if I could make it that far, I figured I'd be safe. I took off my hat and ran a shaky hand through my short sweaty hair before replacing it again. Nudging Doc in the flanks we moved out of cover and I scanned the area. I didn't hear or see anything to indicate trouble. I waited where I was for a moment or two, weighing my odds. Being agambler at heart I decided to go for it. I hadn't traveled far before I heard the first rifle shot, and then another, a bullet whizzed past me so close I could feel the burn against my face. I dug my heels in the horse's side and took off my hat using it as a whip against Doc's backside.

The bullet that hit me nearly knocked me from the saddle. I felt the searing impact before the sound registered on my brain. For a beat everything before my eyes went black and the only thing I was aware of was the fire blazing through my shoulder. I grabbed for pommel and mane and managed to hang on tight. Doc in an effort to escape danger ran all the faster toward the timber. How we outdistanced more bullets is something of a miracle. But more of a miracle was the exchange of gunfire I heard behind us. Through a pain-fogged brain I was able to discern I was no longer the target of my aggressors. Safely in the cover of trees I urged the horse forward. His sides were lathered against the heat of the morning and his breathing was labored and spent. I let him move slower, picking his way and making his own trail. The sound of the gunplay was growing distant but remained constant.

Warm blood was soaking through my shirt in an ever-widening circle around the bullet hole. The sight of it brought on a rush of queasiness, I closed my eyes tight and let my head fall forward to rest against the arch of Doc's neck, hoping the sensation would pass. But it didn't. I had to get to water, `_cold compresses placed with pressure against the wound will stem the flow of blood'_ where had I heard that I wondered. I couldn't work past the enveloping fog to remember. Shock was taking hold, my body began to quake, great tremors, which shook my limbs and made my teeth knock together. I wrapped my arms around the black gelding's neck. "Help me Doc." I whispered. The sensation of movement all around me kept me conscious to the fact the horse was forging ahead and I clung to him with all the strength I could summon. Finally he stopped. I could hear the trickle of water. I opened my eyes to a burst of sparkling lights reflected from water to sky. Doc lowered his head to drink and I slipped from his back into the cold stream.


	21. Chapter 21

**TWENTY-ONE**

It was almost funny, I'd asked for water and there I was lying flat in the middle of a shallow stream. Whoever was listening to my prayers had an unusual sense of humor, which I didn't particularly share at the moment. The horse gave me a prod with his muzzle and nickered. Using my good arm, I pushed myself into a sitting position, but the change caused my head to spin and dark clouds to float before my eyes. I knew I was close to losing consciousness, and this was no place to do it. I focused on the bank and began moving in that direction in a sort of three legged crawl. I made it to land and collapsed, positioning my head on the grassy shore, while my shoulder lay submerged under the running current.

I closed my eyes for what seemed like mere seconds willing my thoughts to escape to a summer day less than a year past back in Dodge City, Kansas. It was another creek I was remembering, and a shared picnic lunch. I felt again bare feet dangling in the rushing water, splashing playing, loving. The memory evoked such a feeling of peace that I fought against returning to the present. But unfamiliar male voices jerked me back to the truth of the moment. Like a rabbit caught in a lantern light I froze, not daring to move, hoping the tall grasses wouldn't betray my hiding place.

"I see the horse, down by the water." I heard someone call. There was the squeak of saddle leather, the rustle of brush and the trod of hoof beat as riders came closer. Through the blades of grass I caught sight of a strange horseman dashing into the stream spraying a heavy mist of water in every direction. He grabbed Doc's reins and began pulling him to the bank. "Hell of a fine horse." He yelled.

"Got a brand on it?" His partner asked from the grassy embankment overlooking the flowage.

There was a belly laugh, "Hell it's got the _Rolling H_, Parm Harris' brand. Rider must a been hit, there's fresh blood on the saddle."

"So whoever the badge was after must a up and stolt one of ol' Parm's remuda."

"Well, I don't reckon that badge is gonna worry none about it no more … I figure he's toasting in hell about now along with Ferdie Kutz."

"Ain't never been a lawman worth mourning over, but old Ferdie weren't a bad sort, kinda hated to see him dead. You know he never watered down the drinks, at least so's you could tell. Can't cipher what would bring Kutz this far from town, unless it was the promise of some cash reward. He was a greedy bastard ..."

The other man interrupted, "Hey Grabow. What's that over there?" The cowpoke jumped from his horse leaving the animal ground tied and walked through the water to stand over my head. I closed my eyes and held my breath; I felt a boot nudging my shoulder turning me over.

"He dead?"

"Been hit, that's fer sure. What do you figure we should do with him?"

The other man had climbed down from his mount to join Grabow. "Don't look to be a mortal wound. Bring him on back to the `nest', we're short men, I reckon Verdon wouldn't mind meeting this here young fella. Must be something or the law wouldn't a been after him and he wouldn't be ridin' one of Parm Harris's horses."

I was roughly grabbed by hands and feet and dragged a distance until I was tossed over Doc's saddle and tied in place. I maintained my charade of unconsciousness. While my clothing and short hair concealed my sex, I didn't know how well I could disguise the nature of my voice and I couldn't afford to have these outlaws know I was a woman.

We traveled over rough terrain in the hot sun; at some point my shoulder started bleeding again and the pain, which had abated some in the cold water returned more intense than before. I would drift from reality to a dream like state and back again. And upon each return I would wonder if I could survive this, or if I wanted to survive. The thought, which kept me hanging on, was that of Matt, and the knowing I was going where he was heading.

They stopped at one point and one of the men tried to pour some water down my throat. It made me gag. I knew infection was setting in and I was becoming feverish. My body was raked with a chill and an ache.

When I opened my eyes, the sun was setting and the shadows were deep. The landscape had changed; we were into the Black Mesa country. I felt an immediate drop in temperature as we rode through the mouth of a canyon. The voices of the outlaws bounced off the stonewalls and echoed through the arroyo. I tried to concentrate on their words, but the fever had control of my mind and it took all my effort to keep quiet. We picked up speed and I sensed the horses smelled home. At last we came to a stop in front of a two-story adobe fortress built into the side of the canyon stockade. The voice of a young Mexican lad greeted the riders and offered to take the horses. My hands and feet were untied and I was pulled from Doc; one of the men slung me over his shoulder and carried me into the large building. It was a smoky room ripe with the smell of spilled beer and stale sweat. My eyes were opened at half-mast to get a look at my new surroundings. The interior of the structure resembled a saloon. A crude bar stretched the length of one side of the building, next to it, an off key melody rolled from the strings of a player piano. Scattered here and there were gaming tables and mingling among the group of outlaws were dance hall girls in revealing clothes. A voice boomed at us from a large table in a far corner. My feverish eyes looked in its direction, "Bout time you fellas got back. What kept you so long, what's ya got there?"

"Badge was shooting at this boy, got a bullet in him, he was hightailing it away on one of Parm Harris's horses. Figured he might could take Ollie or Jeb's place."

"Don't look big enough to fill the shoes. But if'n he managed to steal one of them fine horses of Parm's then he must have some crust to him. Take him to the back room where Virginia Sasse be, tell her she's gotta doctor him." As an afterthought he asked, "What happened to the badge, weren't old Gabriel was he?"

"Never laid eyes on him before, but he was a big'n. His badge said U.S. Marshal. He's dead, along with his sidekick, Ferd Kutz."

"What the hell be Ferdie doin ridin' with the law?" Spencer asked.

"Dead men don't talk," was the outlaw's terse reply. He turned away from his boss, and we left the room through a series of doors at last stopping in a dark hallway. I could hear a key rattle in a lock, a door opened and we crossed the threshold into a small dank room with stone walls and dim light. I was dumped on a cot. "Boss says you're to fix this boy up."

Virginia Sasse walked quickly to my bed and sat down next to me; I stared up at her, trying to communicate without saying a word. She'd been through her own hell; her clothes were torn, bruises traveled down her neck and a wicked cut had slit her lip. Our eyes locked but I couldn't tell if she recognized me.

She did a hasty exam of my shoulder, "Get me some fresh hot water and some sheeting and bandages. I'm thinking the bullet went right through, but this bleeding has to be stopped."

"Git your own, I ain't your errand boy."

"Mr. Grabow, you have deposited this young man on my bed, and if you be remembering correctly I haven't exactly had free run of this fine establishment of yours. Furthermore, I would think that if Mr. Spencer wishes for me to attend to the lad, then he expects you to help, and certainly he wouldn't be pleased at your unwillingness to oblige."

The man called Grabow mumbled a few coarse words but did as he she ordered, when the door slam signaled we were alone in the room, Gin opened my shirt, to better see the wound, and it was then that she noticed the binding covering my chest.

I saw the fleeting expression of surprise register on her face. But that was the last I remembered until sometime later.

`Later' was the middle of the night, when the piano had been stilled and the only noises came from the creak of bed springs on the second floor. I lay on the cot not daring to move for fear the pain might return. Slowly I opened my eyes; the darkness was complete except for the soft glow of a tallow candle resting in a dirty tin lid on a crude table. Sitting on a roughly crafted bench holding a paper toward the weak light was Gin Sasse. I recognized the Wanted Poster I'd so hastily folded and shoved in my pocket before leaving Rubicon. She looked at me and leaned closer, her voice held an edge I'd not heard before, "So Miss Cassie, it appears though young you be, you've got yourself a past to be running from. Only problem, you've escaped the sting of the hornet but ended up smack dab in the middle of his nest."


	22. Chapter 22

**TWENTY-TWO**

We reined in at the scene of the stage holdup. An uneasy feeling stirred in my gut brought on by the memory of what had happened there. The image of Buck's mutilated body was still fresh. I thought of the little girl laying wounded back at the boarding house, and the unknown fate of her mother. Off in the distance the Black Mesa loomed on the horizon. Squaring my jaw, I turned to Parm. "Guess we'd best keep moving on." I pointed my horse in the direction of the mountains.

Parm nudged his black and white paint a head and grabbed the buckskin's bridle pulling him up short, the animal tossed his head in objection, "Wait a dad burn minute there boy, just where do you think you're a headin?"

"To the mesa…"

"The `mesa's' a mighty big place you know, travels up through the Rockies and down through the heart of Texas, thought you was Texan, boy?"

"I was, I am…" I stuttered. "I grew up south of San Antonio, near a town called San Migue,l nothing but flat there. But I worked the cattle drives and spent time in the Rockies ..."

Parm wiped the sweat and grime from his face with the back of his shirt sleeve, "You may have a Marshal's badge pinned to your shirt, Deputy, but you got some learn'n to do … just what do you know about Spencer and his men?"

"I know what Gabe's told me, their hideout is in a valley, through the `devils pass' …"

"Think about it boy, you and me could travel for days and days searching out that secret passage that Gabe was a talking about ... but we ain't a gonna find it, not in time to do Mrs. Sasse no good … and even if by some miracle we did come across the right gorge in the right pass how are the two of us gonna fight off the twenty to thirty men that hombre has holed up there with him? I reckon we gotta find ol Gabe and the posse first, he knows the ins and outs of that place … and more than any man he's got a stake in this here business … him and Mrs. Sasse being what you might call more than casual friends…"

I studied my saddle horn and nodded sheepishly, ashamed of myself for not having thought things through a little better. With a twist of my wrist, I turned the buckskin's head and followed Parm's lead.

The trail the posse had pursued had grown cold with few signs left to show they'd passed the same way we were going, but in both our minds eye was a clear image of the last time we'd seen them as they parted from us to chase after the abductors of the young girl's mother. The day was hot, and the trail we followed offered no shelter from the sun and very little water.

Toward sundown the barren landscape disappeared and was replaced by the fertile grasslands of the Kenasee River valley. Sentinel pines and cotton wood populated the timbered area, and wildflowers dotted the grassy riverbank. We made camp that night near the water's edge. The air was cool, and the chill seemed to go right through me. My thoughts were on Gabe and Gin Sasse and how their relationship seemed to be a mirror into the future and I began to question the hold a badge can have on a man.

I sat on the ground with my blanket draped around my shoulders and a tin cup in my hand as I watched the dying flames dance in the fire. "Are you alright Deputy? That knot on your head ain't paining you none is it? You got a far off look to you." Harris asked as he filled my tin cup with the dregs of the coffee pot. He placed the empty vessel on a nearby rock and sat beside me. The fire was nothing but a few burning coals by that time. He lit a cigar and after a while said, "I spect your mind's on Miss Cassie, ain't it? I admit I've been do'in a fair amount of thinking on how warm it'd be sittin next to Flossie about now. She'd be smiling and laughing the way she does, and I'd be basking in the glow like a June bug on a sunny day. Funny thing is it wasn't always that way. There was a time; I didn't want nothing to do with her. But somehow she worked her way into my heart. Can't figure out how it happened, I only know she's there."

I took a drink from the tin cup, the brew was hot, but that was about the only recommendation I could give it. I knew Parm was trying to get me to talk about Kitty, but I'd never felt comfortable discussing my feelings or relationships with women, especially Kitty. Hell, how could I explain something I couldn't understand? What I felt when I was with her was all those things Parm had talked about and more. So I nodded in answer and stared as the last of the ember's light flickered and disappeared. He looked at me and chuckled, "you know they call us the strong ones, but I ain't never met a man who was something and didn't have a woman adding starch to his spine." He chuckled at me again, low and friendly like. "I'll go first watch; you get some shut eye, I spect, that bruised head of yours could use some rest."

We slept, one of us keeping the lookout for the other, aware the dark held enemies of the two and four legged variety. At sunrise we broke camp and continued our trek. It was late that day when we saw what looked like the glow of campfire ahead of us. The faint light kept us traveling long after dark. As we drew closer, we moved cautiously, hoping it was the posse, but mindful it could be the Commancheros or a party of Spencer's men.

"That be close enough Pilgrim." Gabe's voice echoed through the night. He cast a tall shadow in the moonlight that grew in length as he walked toward us, rifle raised and aimed.

We stopped in our tracks and Parm called out," Don't shoot, Gabe, it's us, me and the deputy."

Ready relief was apparent in Gabe's voice, "Parmly! Well climb down from those horses, we've been wondering what happened to you." He moved forward to greet us, and threw an arm around my shoulder, "Come on lads, we've got beans cooking on the fire. Jack, take care of the horses would you these boys must be dead or their feet."

We followed Gabe as he led us into the encampment. Familiar voices hailed us in weary fashion from bed roll and fireside. Off to the far left a couple men stood guard over six or seven Indians, who were tied and hobbled like horses. Oscar Krause from the Lazy T handed us each a tin of beans and produced a bottle of whiskey to wash down the meal.

We set ourselves by the fire and Gabe eased himself down beside us. "It surely be good to see you boys," he said. Parm offered him a swig from the bottle but he brushed it off, as he told us what they were doing there, "We caught up with War Hawk's bucks a few hours ago. The woman was dead, had been since shortly after the hold-up, we found her body yesterday morning."

"Did they put up much of a fight?" Parm asked.

"Some, Hank and Elmer got themselves shot. Phil Tarney's dead, just got him buried and said the words o'ver him. Didn't figure he'd keep too well till we got back." He blinked hard and ran his tongue over his lips before continuing. "We surprised 'em as they was setting up this camp for the night. I sent Homer Watkins to Fort McCoy to bring back some troopers to escort them back to the Fort; tis the army's job to deal with renegades, course they won't be back for three or four days. What about the little girl, did you find her?"

"We found her Gabe, along with four of Spencer's men, me and the deputy here took care of em - brought the little girl back to the Widow Sasse. Hellie Kraemer sobered up enough to take care of her."

There was alarm in Gabe's voice, "You killed Spencer's men?"

Parm set down his plate of beans, "Had no choice Gabe. It was the only way we could get to the kid."

Gabe ran his hand over his eyes. "Spencer catches wind a that there'll be hell to pay."

"We've already begun to pay the price." Parm admitted slowly.

"What do you mean?" Gabe questioned.

Parm swallowed hard. Up until this point he'd done all the talking but it was clear this was something he didn't want to have to say. He looked to me and I grimaced and swallowed. "Sheriff, Spencer's men hit Rubicon two nights ago."

Gabe stood up, "How bad Matthew lad?"

I stood up too, "Rubicon's alright. It's Mrs. Sasse …"

"Gin, Ginny… what did the bastard do to her."

"He took her away, I tried to stop them, but I was careless and got pistol whipped for my effort."

He started pacing back and forth like a caged coyote. "He'd be taking her to the `nest' that's what them varmints call the hideout you know. The nest, like it be some place akin to heart and home, when it be a hell hole where the lowest of life lives together with no sense of right and wrong. Ginny, my God, Ginny."

Parm moved to his feet, "Gabe, can you get us in the nest?"

"They have lookouts, everywhere. Tis built like a castle, studier for the Mesa stands guard against their enemies." He stopped pacing and stared into the burning camp fire. "I'll go it alone. I'll offer myself in trade for Virginia Sasse."

Parm grabbed for Maxwell's arm, "They'll kill you Gabe."

He jerked his arm from Parm's grasp, "You don't understand, Spencer'll kill her certain, if we all ride in there hell for leather, he'll kill her and take some joy in the act. This be the only chance she have."

I shook my head at him," I can't believe that Sheriff. There must be something else we can do?"

He unbuckled his gun belt and let it fall to the ground, "You just be waiting for her when they set her free, and see that she be taken care of." There was wildness in his eye as he started for his horse.

"Hold it." I said.

He spun around, "Who do you be deputy to tell me to hold it?" He flashed back.

I walked toward him, "The name's Matt Dillon, I'm a U. S. Marshal, and this badge I'm wearing is telling you to hold it right there."

"Why you cussed young pup." Gabe snarled taking a swing at me. I ducked his swing and landed a solid punch of my own to the side of his jaw. I sent him flying to the ground knocked out cold. He'd have a fine lump on his head in the morning. Now there was something else we'd both have in common when the sun came up and Gabe came to.


	23. Chapter 23

**TWENTY-THREE**

"Gin?" I asked. But there was no answer; I said the name again a little louder, still no answer. I pulled myself up on one elbow and surveyed the room. I was alone. The candle had burned down to a waxy puddle, the wick was spitting and I knew it would only be seconds before the room would go completely dark. In a panic I struggled to my feet, frantically looking for another candle for the thought of being completely in the dark in this cave like room was terrifying. There was a cupboard on the back wall, the paint had long since chipped off, and the doors had been lost, leaving the shelves filled with exposed liquor bottles. I walked haltingly to the shabby cabinet. Obviously the purpose of this area was as a storeroom. On top of the cupboard was a cigar box, and in the box were a meager supply of candles, and a small box of matches. I fumbled with the box and quickly struck the match. Sulfur burned my nose, as I held the burning stick to a candlewick. It caught and the room was awash in brighter light, just as the other candle burned out.

With my good arm I held the candle high to explore the room. Feed sacks were stacked near the cot and large barrels lined the far side, with smaller kegs standing in a row on rough-hewn shelves over the barrels. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it possible the kegs contained gunpowder. My shoulder was causing me some discomfort and I figured a swig from one of those whiskey bottles might take the edge off the ache. I set the candle in a holder on top of the cupboard and pulled out a bottle from the outlaws stock. Somewhat to my surprise, the candle flickered as though a wind were blowing it. I looked at it for a moment wondering about that, and then let the wonder drop as I turned my attention back to the whiskey. Taking a bottle I made my way back to the cot. Sitting down, I released the cork and took a good drink of the liquor.

It was cheap firewater, but I knew though the taste was disgusting it would do the work of the expensive brand. While I didn't want to be drunk or lose my mental edge, I needed the bracing the drink offered. I leaned back against the wall and took another swig before replacing the cork. I studied the room again, wondering where Gin was and what my next move should be. The candle flickered and this time the light nearly extinguished. It came to me that there must be some airway through the mountain. It must be a good size to make the flame dance so.

My thoughts were erased by the sound of someone fumbling with the lock on the door. I quickly pulled the cover over my body and lay down with the whiskey bottle at my side. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep as the door opened.

"You ain't never gonna learn are you Ginny?"

"There not be a thing you can teach me Verdon Spencer that I be willing to learn."

I heard the hard slap of hand striking skin, and knew Gin had taken another blow as her body was thrown against the storage cupboard. I heard the rattle of glass against glass. "Before this is through Gin Sasse you'll have learned your lessons, there ain't no doubt about that, just won't be no time to putting your learnin' to use, because you'll be dead."

The door slammed and I threw back the covers and crawled to the floor to help Gin. The cut on her lip had opened up again and her clothes were in disarray. She was fumbling for a hanky to wipe the blood.

"Gin …" I whispered.

"He's a bastard, Cassie, no two ways about it; we must not let him discover your identity."

I helped her from the floor; she leaned on me as we walked slowly to the bed. She sat down hard, and the pain it must have caused brought tears to her eyes. "I think he broke a rib or two." She gasped grabbing her side.

"Just lie down and rest." I murmured.

"But …"

"No buts, Gin, I'm fine, just about as good as new." I smiled and patted her hand. I tossed the dirty water from the bowl and poured in some fresh. I grabbed an unused cloth from the pile the outlaw had left and used it to wipe her face. She closed her eyes and in exhaustion slept. It was a fitful sleep as she fought again her recent battle with Spencer. Several times she called Gabe's name.

"Shhhh," I tried to soothe, "if I know Sheriff Maxwell, he's on his way this very minute to rescue us." Of course I knew no such thing; to the best of my knowledge Gabe had seemed intent on avoiding a confrontation with the outlaws at any expense. But I did know Matt was out there, and he wouldn't rest until Gin had been rescued.

She sounded a little stronger, "They can't be helping us. Spencer has an army of desperados. They'd like nothing better then to cut Gabe down to size, considering the history between the two of them."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She inhaled and winced, "The two of them be half brothers."

"Brother's? How?"

"How do I know?" Suddenly, she wasn't struggling with her words, for she seemed to have found some inner strength to tell me the story."I was there Cassie girl, living on the next farm. Our ma's were best friends, closer than sisters they were. They'd come from Ireland together to marry a pair of gentlemen they'd never met. Gabe's Ma was a widow with a small boy. They always considered it great good fortune to be living so close to the other. It was their hope that their children should one day marry."

"You and Gabe?" I asked.

She shook her head, "No, Verdon and I, but even then I couldn't stomach him. He was a mean lad, doing evil to the songbirds, and beating the dogs. It was Gabriel who won my heart. But, Gabe wouldn't go against his Mama's wishes, not while the poor soul was alive. I couldn't stand the hurt of living so close and not being able to call him mine. When I was eighteen, I left home, rather than be forced into an arranged marriage. Ended up in a Mississippi River town called Bonita Grande, found myself a job cooking meals for a gambling house, before I knew what happened I was working on the floor, selling drinks and dealing cards. And, you know it suited me."

"How did you and Gabe end up in Rubicon?"

She didn't answer right away, and for a moment she rested with her eyes closed. After a time she opened them again and continued, "His mama died and he went searching me out. When he found me he was bound and determined to rescue me from my evil ways. Trouble was, I was enjoying my evil ways. The town needed a sheriff, and Gabe volunteered, said he'd be able to keep a good eye on me that away. We did have a grand time, the two of us - both young with no ties to keep us from doing what we pleased. We carried on that way for seven years. T'was when the war come along that things changed. Gabe was called to serve Texas. He left promising he'd return as soon as the fighting was over. Course we never expected it to last longer than a couple weeks. When he'd been gone three months, a knowledge came to me, I was in the family way - his child, I was expecting. I packed up my belongings and headed west; as far as the stage line traveled; along the way I bought myself a wedding band, and added Mrs. to the front of my name, so no one could call my child a bastard, though that be what it was. The stage came to a stop in Rubicon. I put a down payment on the boarding house with my savings. In due time I had a friend of mine from Bonita Grande send a letter stating that Mr. Sasse had died valiantly in battle. Thus the Widow Sasse was born."

"What about your child?"

"Patty, I called her Patty Sasse." Despite her fat lip, Gin smiled, and a warm light came to her features. "She was a bonny babe, happy and sweet, never an ounce of trouble. She was just learning to walk when the fever came. She went quick, never suffered, of that I was grateful."

"Oh Gin … I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for me. Patty was loved and cherished, that be a good thing, she never knew what it meant to go without or the feel of an unkind hand. She brought joy. That be a blessing."

"Did Gabe know?"

"Not until years later, after the war, when he finally found out where I was. The war had changed him, he was a different man from the boy I'd fallen in love with and the man I'd conceived a child with. Seemed like he'd lost the talent for loving, the war had hardened his heart. Still, he felt it was his obligation to watch out for me. He offered his services as Sheriff and was taken up on it. Did well keeping the peace, until about two years ago, when Verdon decided to set up shop in the Mesa. What happened to Verdon happened to many a soldier, what they had before the war was gone, and they didn't know how to set about getting it back, other than what they'd learned to do during the fighting. Some men learned the lesson well … that be of easy killing and taking what you want. That his half brother was on the other side of the law seemed to make no difference to Verdon, or maybe it fueled his efforts."

She tried to change positions but cried out with the effort. "That's enough talking Gin, you just rest now." I took the whiskey bottle and popped the cork, "Here take a drink of this, it'll make you sleep."

She shook her head, but I insisted, I raised her head to the bottle and she took a drink, she winced at the burn, but closed her eyes. When I was sure she'd fallen asleep, I grabbed the spare blanket from the bottom of the cot and wrapped it around myself. It was cold and damp and I was glad for the warmth the whiskey provided, I took another drink for added insurance. There were some empty grain sacks on the floor in the corner, and on these I curled up and made my bed. It wasn't long before the whiskey had its way with me as well.

It was while both Gin and I were asleep that Spencer came back. I woke up to see him dragging her from the bed. This time I didn't feign sleep. I couldn't, I knew he would kill her if he did again what he had done before. Slowly I snaked my hand down my leg and worked my fingers into my boot until the tips touched the derringer. I wiggled them until the weapon was in my grasp and then I pulled it free.

I didn't give a thought to the consequences of my action; my only thought was to spare Gin. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder I sprang from the feed bags with the gun aimed at Spencer. "Leave her be." I shouted.

He did with a suddenness that sent Gin falling to the floor. Narrowing his already squinty eyes he stared at me. With my thumb I cocked the hammer on the derringer. His expression conveyed his humor as he studied me and the miniature weapon in my hand. "You ain't no boy." His eyes traveled up and down my figure resting at last on my chopped hair, `leastways you don't sound like no boy."

He started moving toward me, "Stop or I'll shoot." I threatened.

He laughed again; I braced myself and pulled the trigger.


	24. Chapter 24

**TWENTY-FOUR**

Nothing happened. Not even so much as a pop. Laughing harder than ever, Spencer reached out and grabbed the derringer from my hand, he gave it a quick look before he said, "They don't work once they've gotten wet." He tossed it to the floor and grabbed me by the nape of the neck pulling me in front of the candle where he could get a better look at me.

"I seen you before, I know I did. Course, I'm thinking you were something to look at then." He was studying my figure, eyeing my flat bosom.

Gin had pulled herself away from Spencer's immediate reach and was watching the proceedings. I could see she was eyeing the whiskey bottle, her hand stretched out to it, but Spencer spun around to look at her. "Don't even think of it Gin." He turned his attention back to me and ran a hand over my chest. "Sure do look familiar…"

"She should, she's one of your kind, got a wanted poster on her, if you had any sense to you you'd have her ridin with you instead of planning evil on her."

"You're addled … this kid?" he scoffed.

She motioned to the crate, which served as a side table, "There be the truth to my words."

Still with me in his clutches he moved toward the crate, he let me go with a shove and picked up the poster. It took him a while to read the print; he paused a couple times to look back at me.

"Is what it says here true, killed a lawman?"

"He deserved to die." Was the only confirmation I gave to the accusation.

His face suddenly changed as the picture stirred his memory, "I knew I'd seen you before – at the Trails End" He raised his head and snorted, "You're Gabe's whore. Why, that would make it all the better!"

I was closer to that whiskey bottle than Gin had been and I was faster than she was too, I grabbed for it and gave the end a solid whack on the corner of the crate. It shattered. "You keep your hands off me, or I swear you'll pay."

He was still chuckling, "You've proven your spunk, but, I've dealt with tougher than you little Missy —a helluva lot tougher."

I didn't say a word, I just watched him move closer, I watched as his arm reached out to grab me, and that was when I struck, like an angry cat with claws unsheathed. Using the shard remains of the whiskey bottle; I slashed his arm and smiled with satisfaction as the blood came to the surface of his skin.

"You …" he angrily uttered a foul epitaph, and grabbed my arm, pulling me to him, he yanked my weapon from my hand and held it menacingly to my face, "I should slit you bloody, and maybe I will once I've finished with you."

"Leave her be Verdon, take me, do with me as you please but leave the girl be."

"What's wrong Gin, jealous … first Gabe has her and then me … " He chuckled, "Don't worry lass, once I've finished with her, Ol' Gabriel won't want nothing to do with her either."

In spite of my resistance the outlaw pulled me from the room. My shoulder had started to bleed again, but he took no concern. "Please …" I begged.

Through the halls we went and up a back stairway. At the top of the landing was a door, which he opened; he yanked me into the room. It was small but contained two doors, which indicated to me the outlaw wanted an escape route should he be trapped. Well I was the one trapped now, and I had a feeling I'd have to escape what Spencer had planned for me using my wits.

There were two things I intuitively knew, you might say they were special talents of mine, honed by life's experience. I knew men, how they think and how they act and I knew cards. To me the outlaw was transparent as isinglass. I'd bet a more conceited soul had never lived and I was ready to play my hunch, "You're a powerful man, Verdon Spencer." I said, hoping to appeal to his vanity. "You must be awfully smart too; running an operation like this."

He squinted at me, and I wondered if his eyesight was beginning to go, willing charm into my voice, I said, "I've known my share of men, and few have what you do; power and intelligence." I swallowed and added acting to my mental list of talents, "I'm a gambler by trade, when I'm not shooting lawmen. My profession has afforded me ample opportunity to study men. I've become a pretty good judge of them too."

"Yeah?" He puffed out his chest a little, and I could see he was beginning to forget I'd tried to kill him. "So how are you judging me?"

I smiled and ran my free hand over his biceps, "Like I said, you're a powerful man and smart too." I cocked my head, letting the firelight shine in my eyes, "I'd also be willing to bet you're a bit of a gambler."

I had sparked his interest, which was easy to do, since I was talking about his favorite subject. Noticeably, he sucked in his ample gut and expanded his chest even more. He nodded his head and waited for me to continue.

"I think we both know what's inevitable, but, I'm in no shape to do a proper job." I licked my lips in what I hoped was a suggestive manner. "I'd like to make a deal with you."

"Little Missy you ain't in no circumstances to be making deals."

"That's true, but, what do you say you and I play a hand or two of poker, if I win, you give me a couple days to heal and I promise you I'll show you a time you'll remember as long as you live, if you win, well you can have or do whatever you want. It won't be nearly so good, but I don't welch on my bets."

"From what I see here, what you're anteing up might not be worth the trouble."

I nodded, "You've seen me dressed up, and you know what I've got to offer. Let's make things interesting _big guy_?"

He chortled, and scratched his armpit; he nodded at a small table with a couple chairs next to it. "Big guy, huh?"

"Well, you did call me little Missy didn't you, just think of it as my pet name for you."

Grabbing a deck of worn out cards, he joined me at the table. "Could be a game of poker might be interesting at that. The way I see it I got no way to lose."

Cheating isn't hard, once you get the knack for it. A card palmed with a flick of the wrist and a flattering word, or slid up a sleeve while taking a drink of whiskey and fluttering your eyelashes - the success of it depends on merely knowing your opponent, knowing his vulnerability and the time to make your move.


	25. Chapter 25

**TWENTY-FIVE**

I picked up the tin cup to my right, swirling the amber contents before raising it to my lips and finishing it off, the liquor was good quality and a pleasure to drink even from so poor a vessel. The fire from the potbelly stove in the corner of the room had warmed my chilled bones and I'd be sorry to leave the comfort, but I was worried about Gin and I'd spent as much time with Verdon Spencer as I could stomach. "I'll see your bet, and double it." I said, tossing in 10 match sticks.

His eyes were on me, thin slits dominated by orbs as black as coal, focused for any crack in my countenance which might give clue to my hand. We'd been playing for over two hours, and my pile of match sticks clearly showed a superior skill. It had come as no surprise to me; Spencer was an easy mark. In less than ten minutes of play, I'd determined his style and had adapted mine to suit the game. I'd let him win a hand here and there, just to keep his interest stoked but now, like a cat with a mouse, I'd grown weary of toying with him and figured it was time to move in for the kill. Fingering his meager hoard he spread the matchsticks out and counted, there were only nine.

"Oh … you don't have ten left do you? I guess the hand is mine then." I stretched my hand to reach across the table and merged the pot with my winnings. "Too bad we weren't playing for cash, but I think you'll agree the stakes were mighty high."

He scowled at me and made a lunge for my cards, "No fair." I said, holding them tight to my breast. Standing up, he grabbed them anyway, yanking them out of my hand, a storm cloud passed over his surly features, "What the hell…" He blurted. "You bluffed me!"

I stiffened my frame in fake bravado, "That's why they call it gambling Big Guy." I retorted boldly. "I believe I'm tonight's big winner, but I tell you what," I appeased attempting to cajole the outlaw, "you keep the matchsticks and in a couple nights the two of us will see how big of a fire we can light." He was still glowering at my hand in disbelief. He'd underestimated me, and I had a feeling he had now guessed I was more than clever with a deck of cards. Setting his teeth on edge he threw the cards back on the table; they hit my winnings sending matchstick flying in every direction.

I replied to his action by squaring my shoulders and raising my chin. "I shall require food, soap and water for bathing and clean clothing for both myself and Mrs. Sasse, before we can keep our date; I think three days should give me enough time to heal."

His lip twitched at the corner but I couldn't tell if it was in humor or disdain. "You damn well better be worth it."

Raising an eyebrow I smiled, "Like I said, it'll be a night to remember as long as you live."

He escorted me back to the storeroom; with a shove he pushed into the stone walled quarters slamming the door shut behind me. After the warmth of the second floor the room that made our prison cell seemed even damper and colder than before. Gin had been sleeping on the cot but she sat up with a start at the bang of the door. Even in the dim candle light I could see heavy bruising on her face and neck.

She was in pain but that didn't stop her from trying to come to my aid, "How bad did he hurt you?" she asked hobbling across the room.

I wrapped my arm around her waist to support her, "I'm fine, Gin, he didn't lay a hand on me. I learned a long time ago, men like to think there's no game they can't win. We played a little poker with my virtue at stake."

"You won?" she questioned.

I nodded, "I bought a little time hopefully enough to come up with a plan and a way out of here."

She shook her head, "there's no way out, at least not for me, but if you find a way out, go and don't be looking back." Shaking my head, I helped as she eased her body back on the cot.

"Lay down." I ordered gently while pulling the blanket up over her body. "You're tired Gin, it's hard to have much fight in you when you're worn out. You just rest now. I'll come up with a plan that'll get both of us out of here." She nodded; glad to have some of the burden lifted from her. The tension eased from her face, but she didn't close her eyes.

Taking the candle next to the bed, I started walking around the room, studying the supplies stock piled there. "It looks like there's enough gunpowder to blow us to kingdom come in these kegs, and enough alcohol to make us not give a damn about the trip." I set the candle back on the top shelf and the flame danced violently. Cocking my head, I looked at it, "Humph, that's odd." I mumbled.

All of the sudden the reason for the flickering flame came to me. I opened my eyes wide in wonder, it couldn't be, but it suddenly made sense. My blood thundered through my veins in excited expectation, I didn't say a word, but repositioned the candle from the top shelf to the floor behind me; I moved to the side of the cupboard and ran my hand between the stone wall and the wooden back.

"What are you doing girl?" Gin asked, her voice taking on my excitement but not knowing the reason why.

"That's it." I exclaimed. Hurriedly, I began unloading the shelves of jugs, crocks and whiskey bottles, until they were empty, digging in with my feet I braced a shoulder against the side of the cabinet, it took all my strength just to get it to budge but once it did it moved as smoothly as a locomotive on a track, revealing the mouth of a cave.

Gin sat up in bed, "Saint's preserve us!" she exclaimed tossing aside the covers and making her way to my side, her pain all but forgotten by the excitement of the moment. She picked up the candle from the floor and held it high as I ventured forward into the dark.

There was a rush of cold clammy air. I walked ahead guided by the light shining from behind, stooping lower and lower as the stone walls closed in on me. Remembering Gin, I stopped and looked back. "Come on." I said, holding out my arm in offer of support. Tentatively, she moved forward. Taking the candle from her hand, I wrapped my arm around her. We hadn't gotten more than ten yards when she sagged against me. In the flickering candle light I saw exhaustion and defeat in her face.

She squeezed her eyes shut and ran a shaky hand over her brow, "Cassie, I can't be going no further, you go on without me, hurry now."

"Gin, please you've gotta try." But even as I said the words, I knew she was right for I could see the passage ahead would only get more difficult, already it had narrowed in diameter. With a sigh, we turned around and walked slowly back to the cot in the storeroom. She sat down hard and slumped forward holding her head in her hands. I dropped to a knee in front of her. "Gin," I encouraged, "Don't give up, Matt and Gabe are out there looking for you. I'll find them and bring them back."

Raising her head she looked at me with tear filled eyes, "Cassie girl, it'd be like finding a needle in a haystack."

I clutched her hand, "If I don't find them, I'll find someone to help us Gin, I promise you that."

She glanced down at our fingers joined together in her lap and then back at me." You just get yourself out of here, and once you do run as fast as you can and don't be looking back. That's the only promise I need."

"Oh Gin," with the pad of my thumb, I wiped away a tear trailing down her cheek, "We're in this together, believe that." I gave her hand another squeeze before standing and moving back to the cupboard to study its mechanics. I soon realized the reason it moved so smoothly was it was actually on a crude track and even loaded with jugs and bottles it would slide open and shut. I began reloading the shelves.

"Cassie, what are you doing?" Gin asked from the cot.

"We're going to beat Verdon Spencer playing his own game by his own rules. When I leave you make sure everything looks just as it did, and then stuff that spare blanket to look like I'm sleeping on the grain sacks. With a little luck they won't guess we've found their escape route."

She nodded. I could see a glimmer of hope reflected in her eyes. I grabbed a handful of match sticks and stuffed them in my pocket along with an extra candle. I threw her a kiss from the entrance of the cave. With more confidence than I felt, I told her, "I promise Gin, it will be alright." Her return was a faint smile.

It was not surprising to find a door handle on the backside of the cabinet and with very little effort I was able to slide it shut. As dark as the storeroom had been the cave seemed even darker. The damp air had a heavy musty quality to it. I walked with one hand holding the candle and the other trailing along the rock walls. Every once in a while I would come in contact with some slimy creature, which would slither away at the touch. As I crept along ominous shadows waltzed with me keeping time to the uneven rhythm of my moves. I felt as one buried alive, searching for a way out of my tomb. I began to doubt my courage. Funny thing about bravery I'd come to know, it was not a measure of how scared a person is, but the determination to ignore the fear and plunge on ahead. On second thought I reasoned, maybe it was just the lack of options and at this point I'd run clean out of them.

As narrow as the passage was, often times just a wide crevice between two rock walls, I wondered how someone as large as Spencer could fit through the slender corridors. I envisioned him holding in his fat belly as he squeezed between the rocks.

In places, water dripped down the sides of the walls forming a shallow stream beneath my feet, moisture seeped in the soles in my boots and sloshed as I walked. Eventually the passage became wider again and I noted several steel sided crates placed in the rock alcoves. I guessed these must contain a small arsenal of weapons and supplies used by the outlaws.

I ducked my head to accommodate the ceiling that slanted closer and closer to the ground until I was forced to my hands and knees. Even at so low an angle, bats swooped by, their screech piercing my ears, spiders and bugs wiggled down my shirt and small rodents darted past me. The damp cave floor was carpeted by jagged rocks that cut at my hands and knees. I forced myself to ignore the pain driven on by the scent of fresh air and hope.

Finally I crawled out of the opening to moonlight so bright it made my eyes blink. I leaned against the side of the mesa for a moment catching my breath, wondering what my next move should be. Realizing there could be guards standing watch I blew out the candle.

Rubicon lay to the north west of the Black Mesa range; logic dictated that was the direction the posse would be coming from. The lightening of the sky behind me confirmed I was on the correct side of the mountain. I'd never been a religious person but I saw nothing wrong with hedging my bet. I said a quick prayer as I moved through the night. I stumbled forward to find help, but I marked the trail, which led back to my friend Gin. Like links in a chain, our fates were joined.

The rough trail was downhill and characterized by the same sharp edged stone I'd encountered in the cave - shards of red rock shale and slabs of the black molten lava which had given the mountain range its name. The footing was treacherous and several times I slipped tearing my shirt and pants, adding cuts and bruises to my assortment of injuries. Morning was fast approaching and I knew if I didn't find help soon, I'd be forced to return to the cave or risk Spencer's men finding me missing. There was no second-guessing the fact they'd make Gin pay for my absence.

Focused on the trail ahead I missed the gnarly roots of a snarled old Juniper bush. The tangled wood tripped me as the toe of my boot caught; sending me flying head over heals. I slammed against the steep incline hard and tumbled down the hill arms flailing helplessly; finally coming to a stop against a large boulder. I lay in stunned silence, in pain and afraid to move. It was in the absolute quiet of the moment that I heard the rustle of hoof beat and the faint murmur of voices whispered in a forced hush. I held my breath and willed my heart to stop its pounding the better to hear the riders.

And then with a shift in the direction of the wind, I heard a voice so low the words were indiscernible but the identity of the speaker was not. Using the boulder for support I struggled to my feet. I was dizzy from the fall and for a moment a dark haze passed before my eyes. I hung on to the rock waiting for the sensation to pass. Through the sagebrush and bunch grass I was able to make out a group of riders passing by about fifty yards downhill. I stumbled forward hanging to Juniper limb and Joshua tree as I made my way down the hillside. "Help.' I called, but my voice sounded weak and strange even to my ears. I ran faster on legs, which seemed to move more from gravity than energy on my part. A lifetime later I reached the trail, but the riders had already passed and were far ahead of me. "Please, help." I called again, knowing they couldn't hear me and aware in the dim light they weren't likely to see me if they happened to turn around.

I started running blindly after them; for this was our last chance, Gin and mine. My heart was beating so ferociously in my chest I was sure it would burst while my mind was awash in dark colors swirling around like a tempest in my head. With the last ounce of strength I could summon I screamed a plea for life. "Matt." Then light gave in to dark and the tempest had its way.


	26. Chapter 26

**TWENTY-SIX**

**(MATT)**

Like the toll of a death knell, the rhythmic cry of a young jackrabbit signaled its last breaths; I got to wishing the hawk would just finish his job and put the creature out of its misery. The final silence was deafening. Nearby a twisted branch from an ancient mesquite tree creaked. A spiny lizard darted across the trail in front of us. The buckskin bolted a might, and I muttered a soothing sound to calm his nerves and mine. The high dessert came alive at night and was filled with noises you never heard during the daylight hours. The closer we came to Spencer's Nest the more aware I was of them.

We formed a somber column, each of us keeping company with our own thoughts. Gabe rode sullenly at the lead; he'd not forgiven me for my deception and resented the authority my marshal's badge represented. He'd quickly regained consciousness, after I'd knocked him to the ground. He pulled himself back to his feet, "Listen to me you young whelp, this be my posse," he'd spat, "and I'm calling the shots and you'd damn well better believe it."

I didn't back down, I couldn't, not after I'd staked my claim and rank, but I didn't want this to become a contest between he and I, "We're going in together Gabe." I repeated.

The posse - his friends, started falling in behind me. He scanned the faces of the men from Rubicon. The muscles by his eyes and in his jaw line tightened as he came to recognize how it was going to be, "It appears I misjudged things amight, sometimes it's hard for a man with a badge to know who his real friends are." Bending to pick up his dropped holster, he slid the gun from its sheath; he balanced the weapon in his hand for a beat before tightening his grip. With steel I'd come to recognize he vowed, "but if I see your high handed ways are about to bring added danger to Gin, I'll be shooting you myself. Don't be doubting it boy."

I had nodded for I didn't doubt his word on any count. We packed up camp, leaving a couple men to stand guard over the renegades and take care of the injured until the soldiers from Fort McCoy arrived and the rest of us headed out on the trail to rescue Gin Sasse and bring Verdon Spencer to his final justice.

On the trail ahead of me, I heard Parm question Gabe in a low throaty voice, "How much further do you reckon?"

"With luck we'll hit the Devil's Pass afore sunlight," was his terse reply.

I nudged my horse to a faster pace, skirting around the other riders to draw up next to Gabe. He knew I was beside him, I could see it in the way he held his body. We rode that way for a spell until I finally said, "I want to make peace between us before we ride in there."

He kept his eyes on the trail ahead refusing to give voice to his knowing I was there. I adjusted my hat and shifted my seat in the saddle, "Listen Gabe, I had to get you to listen to reason back there, I couldn't let you get yourself killed, Rubicon needs you. The only way I could figure it was that you being a lawman; you'd listen to the badge."

His voice was quiet, and I had to strain my ears to hear it, "A man who wears a badge, an honest one, figures he has no right to a wife or family."

I nodded, "It wouldn't be fair to the woman or the children." I agreed.

"Yeah, I figured you'd be seeing it that way, seeings as how you be all badge. I don't expect you could understand what Gin means to me, fact be, it ain't never been clear to me either. It's just that Ginny's always been there, whether I've been there for her or not. She's the strength, and what she's gone through is more than I'd be expectin' any man to survive."

"Guess that's true of most women." I admitted.

"It be more than that with Gin, boy," He turned to look at me for the first time in our conversation. "She bore my child, I was off fighting a war bringing death and she was giving life. I never knew until later, when it was too late, when the bonny babe was already cold in her grave - when the only grieving that was left for me was the knowledge I wasn't there when Ginny needed me. That be one helluva heavy cross to bear."

The pain in his voice sucked the air from my lungs like a kick in the gut. "I'm sorry..." I started to say, but he held a hand up to silence me. The posse seeing his signal reined in their mounts. "You hear that?" He whispered. In quiet we listened and I shook my head about to say I didn't hear anything but then I did. It could have been a yelp of a lone coyote or the growl of a mama bobcat to her young, or it could have been a human cry for help.

Twisting my neck I saw in the shadows of morning twilight a figure running down the trail, and then I heard what sounded like my name. Kicking a heel in the buckskins side I turned his head to the rear. Even as we closed in on the running figure I saw him collapse to the ground.

Parm and Gabe were coming up fast behind me. I swung down from the saddle and approached the unconscious figure cautiously, one hand resting on my pistol. I heard Gabe and Parm dismount and figured they'd be covering me.

"It's just a kid." I said bending to a knee. The slight frame was face down and the clothes were dirty and torn. With as much gentleness as I could muster I turned the lad over. "Give me your canteen Parm." I ordered.

Harris moved up behind handing me his water. "Who is it?" He asked. I shook my head, while I emptied a fair amount of the container's contents on my bandana and used it to wipe some of the grit from the boy's face.

"Easy," I said, not sure if he could hear me, I propped the boy's unconscious body up against my knee, cradling his head in the crook of my arm. I ran the cloth over the smooth young cheeks, and used it to moisten his cracked lips, while wondering what such a lad was doing crying for help in the middle of the night in this part of the country. Surely Spencer had something to do with this, and I hoped for Gin Sasse's sake we could bring him around long enough to tell us his tale.

With the grime removed, recognition hit me like a brick. I tightened my hold and breathed her name. "Kitty?" The feel of her body completed mine, "Kitty." She stirred and I felt the change. Her eyes fluttered open for a second as if to verify she was safe in my arms.


	27. Chapter 27

**TWENTY-SEVEN**

**KITTY**

The old saying `_I thought I'd died and gone to heaven_,' came to mind. I heard his voice whisper my name and felt the beat of his heart next to my ear. I opened my eyes and in the muted light of early morning I saw his face looking into mine. "Yes," I thought, "certainly this was heaven for no earthly miracle could have made me feel as safe." I closed my eyes and drifted away for a moment. But reality had too strong a pull; the thought of Gin in danger and counting on my help gave me a mental slap and my eyes opened wide. I struggled to pull free from Matt's arms.

"Easy there," He drawled. "Just rest darlin'," he said, using a never before spoken endearment, maybe this was heaven I thought again. But then I heard Gabe's amazed voice as he moved closer breaking through our private reunion, "Cassie girl?"

"Cassie?" Parm questioned too, bending down on a knee level with Matt, he squinted into my face and then back away. "Where the hell did all your hair go? How did you get out here? "

I concentrated my focus on the rancher, "On your horse, I took him," I confessed in a croaky voice, while ignoring Matt's attempts to coddle me. I turned to Gabe Maxwell, "I was with Gin." My throat was dry and I started coughing, Matt took control again using his body as a shield between me and the other men. Holding the gritty spout of a canteen to my lips he sweet-talked, "Here honey, take a drink."

I drank selfishly not concerned if I finished off the entire canteen, even though the liquid was warm and tasted like river bottom, it was wet and it eased the dry of my throat. Gabe shifted his position again so he was next to me, he pushed a wayward strand of hair from my eyes, "Lass, how is she? How be my Ginny?"

I was gaining my second wind, or maybe it was actually my third or fourth wind, what ever it was I felt energy starting to move through my body, and I was filled with a need to get on with my mission. "She needs to get out of there soon." It wasn't long before the story of my escape came tumbling out. I saw Gabe look at Matt with new eyes and something akin to respect as a brief history of our relationship was revealed. I made clear to them, the fact there was gunpowder and liquor in our storage room prison cell. I ended with the discovery of the cave and the path that had lead to my freedom.

"So it be true." Gabe finally said at the end of my story.

"What's that?" Matt asked.

"Like any varmint what digs it's nest in the depths of the earth, be it scorpion or rattler, Spencer got himself a back door. Talk was always that he must have some sort of injun magic on his side, cause he's been cornered a time or two but always managed to vanish into thin air. It all becomes clear now."

Parm had left for a moment but now he returned with the medical pack, he lowered himself to the ground and placed the bag next to me. "Cassie, beggin' your pardon but it don't seem natural to call you Kitty, someone should be takin' a look at the gunshot wound. You hurtin' anywhere else?" He asked.

"Just from my head to my toe." I replied partly in jest. "But I'll survive." The water had revived me sufficiently to pull myself free from Matt's protective embrace, though it was the very last thing I wanted to do. I knew in the heart of me, I had to be strong. Strong for Gin - strong for Matt too for if he even suspected a hint of weakness on my part he'd never let me proceed with my plan. "I marked my trail. I can get us back in there."

"Whoa." Matt said, "You're not going anywhere. You tell us what direction to head, we'll find the cave."

"It's too well hidden Matt; you'll never find it without me." A look passed over his face and I saw clearly he wasn't in the mood to give an inch. I stiffened my resolve, "Don't you understand? Gin can't get out of there, not through the cave, she's hurt and if I'm not there when Spencer or his men come back they'll hurt her all the more, I'm not sure how much more her body can take." I studied Matt, Gabe and Parm, "Matt, you're too big to fit in the cave. Gabe, you know the way to guide the posse through the Devil's Pass, so that leaves Parm to come with me while the rest of the men go in through the canyon." The three of them scowled at me, with a mixed concern for my welfare and an innate unwillingness to take orders from a woman. "I can buy you time, the time we'll need to get Gin out of there in one piece and time for you to do your work and clear out the vermin from Spencer's Nest once and for all."

"No!" Matt declared, but even as he said it I knew his voice lacked total conviction for he was speaking from his heart but the badge looked for the truth of things. The truth was I was right. I reached up my hand to Parm who pulled me to my admittedly unsteady feet, leaving Matt still on the ground behind me. Quickly he scrambled upright towering over me.

"You're not going anywhere until I've checked that bullet hole for myself." Dillon ordered.

"There isn't time." I protested, but he'd already pulled me away from Gabe and Parm and the rest of the posse to stand under the strongest rays of the rising sun. His face was like stone as he unbuttoned my shirt and examined the festering wound.

"Parm, hand me that container of Kimball's Gunshot Remedy." He ordered.

I winced as Matt sprinkled the sulfa compound on my open wound. He talked over my shoulder to the Rubicon men. "I'd feel better if a couple other fellas went into that cave with Kitty, but I suspect Parm here's worth that number if not more. Gabe what are our chances of getting to the `nest' before Spencer spots us?"

"They be slim, but not impossible. I'm thinking we can be traveling in the shadows - early morning's the best time for such a plan." Turning to Parm, the Sheriff asked, "Do you be thinking you could rig up some sort of explosive devise with the gunpowder in the storeroom? Once we have Gin out, I'd like to be sending that back door of Verdon's to kingdom come."

"I've done my share of blasting; I reckon I kin rig something up."

Gabe nodded, "Just be getting Virginia Sasse out of there safe and sound, and Cassie girl too." He pulled a watch fob from his vest and snapped open the case. "It be nearing five A.M. I figure two hours for us to travel the last distance if all goes right, and that should be enough time to get Cassie and Parm back to Ginny. Cassie girl, if you could arrange some sort of disturbance say around 7:30, distract Mr. Spencer and his boys, we might could be attempting a run on the place." Pausing, he waited for Matt or Parm to voice their opinion, when they didn't Gabe asked in a deferring tone, "Marshal Dillon, does that be sounding like a plan to you."

Matt nodded, `Might could work," he said, as he finished applying a fresh bandage, and re-buttoning my shirt. He put gentle hands on my shoulders and held me apart from him for a heartbeat studying my features; the rigid set of his jaw softened but did not falter, "I guess you'd best get going. Parm take good care of her."

"I'll watch over her like my own." Parm vowed.

The oft uttered phrase came to my lips, "See you later Matt." I promised as Parm and I started the climb up the rocky trail of the Black Mesa.


	28. Chapter 28

**TWENTY-EIGHT**

**KITTY**

"Here, put on my gloves." Parm offered halfway up the steep mountain climb. "Your pretty hands weren't made fer this kinda chore."

"I couldn't…" I objected but thankfully slipped on his heavy cowhide work gloves anyway.

The trail ahead all looked the same and the marks I'd left seemed to have disappeared into the landscape. For a moment I panicked not sure if I could find my way back to the cave opening. I led us down one or two blind paths before finally picking the right one. "This is it!" I exclaimed triumphantly. We quickly lit a candle and disappeared behind the black rock.

Harris led the way, and I found following him made the cave less intimidating. In the darkest parts he offered encouragement until at last we were on the other side. Behind the cupboard at the mouth of the cave, Parm said, "You got better ears than me Cassie, you'd best listen to make sure we don't surprise one of them outlaws."

I placed my head close to the corner of the cupboard back, I could see a slit of light and through that narrow opening I saw Gin sitting on the cot, her hands folded, her eyes closed. I looked back to Parm and nodded. Very carefully he slid the door on its tracks. Gin was on her feet and at our side before we stepped out of the rocks. "Faith and begorin!" She said; giving me a quick hug and Parm a kiss to the side of his beard grizzled face.

Parm squinted at her taking in the signs of beating and abuse. "How are you Mrs. Sasse?" He questioned.

"I'm thinking I've one or two broken ribs Parmly but nothing that time won't heal." Her features turned apologetic, "I've tried to go through the cave, and even gave it a shot after Cassie left, but I can't be doing it. I've not the strength."

"Don't you worry none, now Ma'am, I'll see to it you get out of here in one piece." The sides of his mouth curled upward in a sweet smile, "You know there's a lawman out there that's mighty eager to see you again, I got me a feeling he has one or two things he'd like to say to you."

She bit at the corner of her lip and closed her eyes for a long count, "We always have the words to say when the one what needs to hear them isn't around."

"Truer thoughts was never spoken ma'am." Parm said simply, perhaps giving his own thought to Flossie and his girls back in Rubicon.

Gin looked to me, and then nodded to a pile of clothing sitting on the cot next to what was supposed to be my sleeping form, "You look some the worse for wear child. Verdon had one of his boys drop off some clean clothes; you might want to slip into something, or he'll be wondering how you got those rips and stains on your britches."

I took a look at the clothing; along with a variety of discards from the rummage piles there was a red skirt and brightly embroidered Mexican blouse, which I supposed Verdon planned for me to wear at our next meeting. I held the off the shoulder top up in front of me and asked Parm, "Do you suppose I could create that disturbance in something like this."

Parm raised his eyebrows, and said in a low voice, "Yeah, I reckon you could cause enough distraction to give our boys a chance. You go ahead and change, don't mind me, I'm going to see what kind of diversion I can arrange with all this here gunpowder."

I turned my back to him and stripped out of the dirty clothes while explaining hurriedly to Gin our loosely woven plan. "What can I do to help?" She asked.

Intently emptying out several liquor bottles Parm replied, "I'd suggest you keep the faith and keep on begging that there Orin fella…"

She smiled at him, "Tis Gaelic my dear Parmly, Faith and begorin … it means have heart but don't forget the hands, for they be the tools to get the job done."

In the meantime I'd pulled the skirt up my hips and the gauze blouse over my bare torso. Gin walked over to me, and began arranging the neckline to best expose my features while still hiding much of the bandage covering my wound. There was no binder confining my breasts and the gauze of the blouse clung to the curves. She clicked her tongue, "I'm hoping you know what you're doing Cassie, for this be playing with fire the same as Parmly with his gunpowder." She grabbed a clean rag from the washbasin and began wiping the grime from my face.

"Bite your lips and pinch you cheeks." She ordered, while brushing my short hair so that the bangs curled over my forehead.

Parmly stopped his business for a minute to take in my new look. "She's right Cassie; you look like dynamite with a fuse that's already been lit."

Feeling a little uncomfortable under his lingering gaze I asked, "What time is it?"

He pulled free his pocket watch and checked, "7:15."

I nodded; cold fear had taken up residence in the region of my heart. From their expressions I could see Parm and Gin felt the same. Our half-baked plan was crazy and we all knew it. Nervously, I glanced at what Parm had been working on, he had filled five whiskey bottles with gunpowder from which hung liquor saturated strings of baling twine about ten inches long. "You head out in that there main room, get those fellers to look at you - sing 'em a ditty - dance on a table - meanwhile me and Mrs. Sasse will sneak out behind you - when you see we're to the door, you get the hell out of there as fast as you can. I'll toss one or two of these little boom bottles in their direction." He nodded toward the cave. I've got a couple more of 'em stashed by the back door there - in case one of us gets a chance to come back here and permanently shut it." His gaze wandered around the room, "You know one match in the right spot would blow the roof offa this mountain." Taking another look at his watch he asked, "You ready?"

I looked at Gin who was mumbling the words to some Irish prayer, she finished with the sign of the cross and I followed suite even though I wasn't Catholic. "Amen" I repeated in a trembling voice. "Amen."

Harris pulled Gin behind the door so they'd be concealed when it opened. I attempted a smile at them before giving Gin a quick hug. Tentatively I moved to the door, raising my hand to pound on it, but I was shaking so hard I decided to kick it instead. "Let me out of here." I shouted half surprised my voice sounded as bold as it did. I began making as much of a ruckus as I could. It wasn't long before Grabow came to open the door. He looked me up and down, "Say now, I've seen me some lizards out there on the desert what changed color, but I ain't never seen a change like this … why if I'd a known what lay under them trail clothes you was wearing …" he whistled his appreciation, leering at my body.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, thrusting my breasts in his direction. No doubt about it I'd caused a distraction. Pushing my way past him I complained, "I'm bored, and tired of being locked up in that tiny room without the company of a real man - what say you and I have a little fun?"

He had to run to keep up with me and he reminded me of a dog chasing after a bitch in heat. His mind was on one track and he gave no thought to locking the storeroom door behind us. Full light was pouring in through the front batwing doors, and about a dozen of Spencer's outlaws were lazing around the room, drinking whiskey and playing cards. By this time Grabow had a hand around my arm, but I pulled it free, I shouted to a man playing the piano, "You know the tune for Racy Lacy?"

He turned with a scowl that changed to a big smile at the sight of me in my new get-up. He nodded and began plinking out the chords all the while keeping his eyes on my swinging body. I jumped atop a table and the men gathered round. I can carry a tune if it isn't too high or too low, and my voice is loud enough to be heard, but I knew all I needed to keep the attention of the men assembled were the bawdy words to the song and my own seductively dressed body.

"_Oh Lacy was a gal who lived with her Pa,_

_But spent her time with every man she saw…_

_She went to the fair to show her fancy wares and_

_That's where she met sweet Willie James,_

_Now all who knew Willie_

_Remembered him well, an innocent farm boy_

_But that was 'fore he fell…."_

A few high kicks and jiggling kept the men engrossed while from the corner of my eye I saw Parm and Gin had made it to the front saloon doors. Harris pushed Mrs. Sasse through to the other side and I jumped from the table still singing the song, "Lacy had in mind to teach him…." Parm tossed the bottle through the air and I ran as fast as I could to the door. They were a head of me but I caught up and grabbed Gin on the other side by the arm so that she was running between us. We heard the explosion and the men's screams of surprise. "Keep running." Parm ordered stopping long enough to light another bottle and heave it toward the opening. Already the outlaws had palmed their weapons and were firing at us.

The posse was waiting in the shadows and ready to spring into action. Matt rushed forward pulling Gin and I out of the line of fire.

"You okay?" He asked giving me an appraising eye. I nodded, too out of breath to say "boo". My eyes were glued to Spencer's Nest, a window at the front had been blasted out and smoke and flames were billowing from the opening. Matt squeezed my hand, and my fingers held tight to his. "You stay with Parm, and everything will be fine." Turning to Harris he ordered, "Get the girls out of here, we'll meet up with you on the other side of the Mesa."

Parm replied, "There's explosives set up in the storeroom Matt, but you'll have to work quick like if you're a mind to use 'em."

Next to me I saw Gabe embrace Virginia Sasse. He uttered a phrase in Gaelic, "a chuisle mo chroi, a ghra mo chroi."

She reached a hand to his face; the caress was whisper soft as were her words, "Yes, love of my heart and dearest treasure." Then he was gone running after Matt and the rest of the Rubicon men, dodging bullets, entering the building where Verdon Spencer was waiting for them.


	29. Chapter 29

**TWENTY-NINE**

**MATT**

I had to trust Parm, had to trust that if I didn't get out of this alive he'd see to it Kitty and Gin Sasse would be returned safely to Rubicon. Trust was part and parcel of wearing a badge, you had to have a faith that those you cared about would be able to make it whether you were there to protect them or not. It's the only way a lawman can live; it's the only way a lawman can die.

At the base of the Mesa nestled in the arroyo was the cluster of buildings, which made up Spencer's nest. The compound included a black smith shop, a bunkhouse and a makeshift general store along with the saloon that served as Spencer's headquarters.

The sky stormed bullets, all hell was breaking loose; this was no time for careful thought and planning, only time for action. We divided our men amongst the buildings. With guns in hand, half of us stormed Spencer's headquarters, firing rounds of ammunition from first one weapon than another. There was no doubting the courage of the posse, the hearts of the men from Rubicon held too many memories of the wrongs done by Verdon Spencer.

The fight evolved to hand to hand combat, and my mind flashed back to Chickamauga. I knew I wasn't alone in my thinking for I heard the Rebel Yell coming up behind me. I caught sight of Gabe using the butt of his pistol to whip one of Spencer's men out of his path. The Sheriff and I pushed our way into the building, covering our mouths with bandanas to keep the smoke from filling our lungs, it burned both nostrils and eyes, and the force of the heat felt like it was melting the shirt to my back. Small explosion of the loose bullets, which littered the floor, began to snap and pop like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

Before the gunplay was over three outlaws lay dead and a Rubicon man had taken a bullet between the eyes, many more had been wounded. Realizing the siege was lost, Spencer's men, one after another threw down their weapons, held up their hands in defeat, and were ushered from the building. Grabbing one of the outlaws as he was being led away, Gabe demanded, "Where be Verdon Spencer?"

"He's still in there." The man replied, pointing toward the second floor.

The fire was spreading quickly; an outside wall had taken on the look of some sort of demonic skeleton; flames lashed between its wooden planked bones. We had only as long as it took the blaze to hit the storage room before the building would explode.

From the second floor landing Verdon Spencer appeared. His voice loud against the roar of the flames, "Gabriel, it seems time has come for the last laugh." His image was caught in a swirl of smoke and all but disappeared.

"I'm here to take you in." Gabe hollered back.

"I ain't a fixin to attend your hanging party, dear Brother."

"Go to hell! Any tie between the two of us was cut when you took a hand to Ginny." Gabe snarled back.

Spencer had shifted and disappeared from our view again, but I heard the sound of boot against floorboard and I tried to judge his position. We were low on ammunition and every shot had to count. Gabe pointed in the direction of the sound, and I nodded. I raised my gun and squeezed the trigger. I'd missed my mark and he responded with a snort which echoed through the flames like Satan's laugh, "You'll have to do better than that lawman, and I don't think you got it in you. Get out, or I swear I'll kill the pair of you dead."

To prove his point he wasted a warning bullet; "That be your last chance Gabriel." He held off for ten beats; then the red flash of gunshot mixed with the inferno, the blast resounded, until a target was hit. A bullet struck Gabe; the impact sent him flying backward against a chair before landing hard on a table. It collapsed under his weight. I turned my back to Spencer for only a moment to see to Gabe and the outlaw fired again. The bullet tore into my right side, and ripped the revolver from my hand. Hot blood spilled from the wound spreading across my shirt. My legs gave way and I slipped to my knees and then down to my hands. I began crawling across the floor toward Gabe.

Spencer laughed from above, seemingly oblivious to the holocaust, "Sending me to hell, eh? Seems to me I've got a birds eye view to the event, only you'll be the one burning, you and that pup you got licking at your boot leather, I'll see you both to brimstone and take the glory in watching you go."

Gabe's gun was still in his hand and I knew I had to get to it before Spencer shot again. I reached over Gabe's body but the pain in my side wouldn't let me stretch the length to get my hand on the weapon. Even in the roar of the holocaust, I thought I heard the click of trigger against hammer and knew Verdon's intent was to finish his task. I was helpless to save us.

Gabriel opened his eyes, though they seemed fogged with pain. One by one his fingers tightened around his pistol. With an unwavering hand he raised the gun toward the balcony and pulled the trigger.

Above the tremendous hiss and crackles of the fire, I heard the heinous sound a bullet makes on dead impact with human flesh and the snap of splintering wood as Verdon Spencer broke through the railing. He plummeted through the smoke filled air and landed with a sickening thud. At the same instant the gun slipped from Gabe's hand.

The side wall supporting the staircase gave way in a loud crash, the fallen timbers glowed red hot, flames danced closer and closer as a torrent of sparks stormed down on us. We had only minutes before the fire broke through to the store room. I grabbed at Gabe and tried to lift him up, but I'd lost too much blood and I was weak. I begged him to help me. "Come on Gabe, we've got to get out of here." I rasped. "Gin and Kitty are waiting for us."

His lips moved and I had to put my ear to his mouth to hear him. "Go with out me … gut shot … good as dead."

Grabbing the back of a chair I pulled myself to my feet. Ignoring everything but instinct to get us out of the inferno, I took a hold of his boots and began dragging him slowly across the floor. All the while I begged, "Don't die on me Gabe, don't die."

I couldn't breathe, the heavy smoke was scorching my lungs and so thick I was nearly blinded by it. I wasn't even sure I was headed in the right direction. There was only one clear thought in my head; we weren't going to give up without a fight. I didn't know if he could hear me, but I said the words again. "Don't die on me Gabe."

His eyes opened, his lips parted, and I fell to a knee beside him. His voice though weak, held a hint of the steel I'd come to know, "I'm telling you … get out." He ordered, "With Verdon I'll be dying… see to the living … see to Cassie girl … my sweet… Gin..."

"No." I screamed back, through a throat bloody and raw, seared by the flames of Spencer's nest. He didn't answer but I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder from behind and pull me to my feet. It was Parm Harris who had made his way through the blaze to rescue us. "This place is gonna blow Matt, come on."

"Gabe…" I started. Harris shook his head but knelt down quickly and placed two fingers to the lawman's neck. "He's gone Matt."

"No." I declared irrationally, "I'm not leaving him." Parm didn't waste time with argument but slugged me hard nearly knocking me out cold. Hoisting me over his shoulder he proved his strength by hauling me from the burning building. We were not far in the clear when the first loud blast ripped open the saloon, debris shot in the air, and Parm threw me to the ground, covering me with his body. I remember little after that save for a cool hand, and a tender voice until I woke up days later in my bed at Virginia Sasse's boarding house.


	30. Chapter 30

**THIRTY**

**KITTY**

Parm left Gin and I sheltered by shadow and brush at the far side of the Mesa, "keep an eye on things and if appears happenstance has gone sour, get the hell out a here and don't look back."

As he turned his horse to ride back to the burning building the sidewall gave way. Fire and smoke plumed in the air. Gin and I didn't say a word but sat on our horses watching the firestorm and wondering if our hearts were burning with it. Gin nudged her mount a little closer and her hand reached out to cover mine which had a death grip on the pommel. Away from the blaze the outlaws were being restrained with their hands tied behind their backs. Someone was tending to the wounded while the dead were dragged a distance away and covered with blankets. I was aware of all this activity in the periphery of my line of vision. My concentration however, rested on the fire as I willed Matt to emerge from the building.

I could hear Gin chanting in a soft voice, which grew more Irish with every word she spoke, "Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art though among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus, Holy Mary Mother of God …"

From the flames two figures appeared, the smaller one half dragging half carrying the larger, the smoke obscured their identities at first and lifted for only a blink before a blast ripped through what was left of Spencer's Nest. That brief moment was long enough for me to see Parm had Matt flung over his shoulder. I cried my words of thanksgiving out loud, "its Matt, thank God; thank God he's safe…." Gin's hand over mine tightened as she finished the prayer, "Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

**GS GS GS**

Ahead of us lay a vast expanse of sagebrush, bunch grass and trail dust, interspersed across the region were cacti; some short and squatty others taller than a man with giant prickly fingers pointing at the blazing sun as if cussing an oath for the ceaseless unforgiving heat. Beyond, as behind, stood the purple hued Black Mesa Mountain Range. Like a watchman of the land, the monuments of the arid plains stood in unchanging guard over Texas as they had for millions of years, as they had yesterday as they would tomorrow. But for those of us journeying back to Rubicon, the world, as we knew it was forever changed. For what we'd lost at Spencer's Nest would alter our lives inexorably.

Matt was lying in the wagon along with several other Rubicon men. The space was cramped and their bodies over lapped. A canvas shade of sorts had been rigged over the wagon bed, so they were protected against the hottest of the sun's rays. I'd done my best to make him comfortable but I didn't know if he was aware of my efforts.

"It's just as well, Cassie girl." In the driver's seat, Parm had turned to say. "He's strong and young and if we can get him back to town alive he should come out of this just fine." I attempted a smile but the best I managed was a slight lifting to the corners of my mouth.

A smaller wagon had also been commandeered from the supplies at Spencer's Nest. In this vehicle were transported the remains of the men from Rubicon. In the death wagon sat Gin Sasse, next to Charlie who was doing the driving. She could have been made of stone for the emotion she was showing and I understood her motive. Any crack in the façade would have caused her to crumble in front of us and she could not do that, she would not do that to the memory of Gabriel Maxwell. Had Matt been the one who died in the fire I'd have been the same way.

It had been hours after the fire that Parm and Charlie had scoured through the ashes of the burnt out building. They had come across some charred remains with a badge resting where a heart should have been; very carefully they had moved the body to a blanket and carried it from the building. With badge in hand Parm had walked to Gin. "I reckon you should have this Mrs. Sasse, Gabriel would a wanted it that way." He took her hand, opened the fingers and placed the scarred metal in her palm. She dropped her eyes to study the lawman's star before bringing it to her breast and nodding.

Rubicon was a good three days away traveling as we were, and every bump in the road rocked my heart. We stopped frequently to attend to our injured; I'd apply compresses to Matt's forehead and change the dressing on his wound. On the morning of the third day we stopped at a small green river valley that I recognized as the place where Gabe and Parm had taken Flossie and I on our picnic.

The heat of the season had changed it some from the verdant paradise it had been on that spring day, but the Rubicon River which flowed through this basin had kept it green and early summer daisies, coneflowers, square bud primrose and Mexican Hat had altered the hues of the landscape tapestry. It was quiet too, almost reverent with only the sounds of the river and the quacks of the small flock of Hooded Mergansers who made their home near the water's edge. In the stillness, I could almost hear Gabe's voice as he'd shared his thoughts of how treasured this place was to him, "It puts me to mind how the Garden of Eden must have been. This here is a special place for me. I'm glad you be liking it." Parm must have been doing some remembering too for he walked over to Gin, "I think this should be where we plant Gabe, he'd be right happy here."

With Parm's help she got down from the buckboard and walked over to the river's edge, she seemed to be searching the water for an answer, "This was a dear plot of earth to Gabriel, but I'm thinking there's an even better place for him to be resting."

I'd been standing back from her, but now I moved closer. It had come to me suddenly and the thought brought a measure of ease for my grief, "next to wee Patty?" I asked.

She nodded "I'm thinking the two of them belong together until it be my time to join them."

And so it was on our arrival back in Rubicon later that day. The dead were laid to rest, most next to their kin with quiet prayers and gentle weeping. I had slipped from Matt's bedside to be with Virginia Sasse. I felt a powerful bond tied us together in the shared knowledge that a badge was our strongest rival. "It's not right." I said after the last 'amen'.

"What's not right?" Gin asked and I was a little annoyed with her for not seeing the obvious.

"Gabe is gone, he should be here with you." I noticed in her hand she held Gabe's badge next to her Rosary beads.

"Damn the badge." I cursed.

She looked at me with surprise in her expression, "It weren't the badge what took him, Cassie Girl - good fights evil and Gabriel was a good and brave man, he died as he lived, a body can't ask for more than that."

She knelt down to a knee and patted the freshly filled grave and then gave a glance to the smaller mound beside it before crossing herself and folding her hands to pray. I stood there for a moment wanting to share the sorrow and seeking to comfort. When it was clear she'd found her own form of solace, which didn't include me, I left her to return to Matt.

Two of the large bedrooms on the upper floor of the boarding house had been turned into a makeshift hospital. Helmut Kraemer devoted himself to caring for the wounded, it wasn't until the last of his patients was buried or out of danger that he again allowed himself the luxury of a bottle of Gold Barrel.

Matt had lost a lot of blood, he was weak and it seemed an effort for him to stay awake, much less talk for the first few days after we got back to Rubicon. For my part, I was healing physically from the bullet wound and various cuts and scrapes. My grief over Gabriel's death was a different matter, the unfairness of it haunted my thoughts, and I fluctuated between anger at God, Verdon Spencer and the badge, which I felt had forced the showdown.

A week to the day after we returned to Rubicon, Flossie and Parm were married in Gin Sasse's front parlor. A small group of us including a gaunt and pale Matt Dillon attended the ceremony. Parm's daughters still weren't happy about the union or sharing their father with a saloon gal, but they'd learned a thing or two about Miss Flossie, which had formed the basis for respect. Parm and Flossie had decided to stay on at the boarding house for a time longer figuring Mrs. Sasse could use the support and the girls could get to know their future teacher, Miss Yolanda Boman.

**GS GS GS**

Matt's buckskin was tied to the back of the stage. The big gelding was restless and stomping his hooves impatiently on the hard baked Texas soil. He tossed his head against the pull of the reins and whinnied loudly. Charlie stood at attention holding the coach door open for us. But Matt and I held back, reluctant to leave, hard pressed to find the words to say, `good bye.'

Flossie moved forward and wrapped her arms around me. "Just remember Sweetie, there's always a home for you here in Rubicon. You're part of the family you know." The two little girls flanking her sides looked up at their new mother, and I judged my friend had a few adventures of her own awaiting her in the rearing of Parm's young daughters.

Matt looked to Parm, "I owe you a debt I can never repay."

The tough rancher chewed a bit on the cigar sticking out of his mouth. "What goes around comes around Matt."

Georgie Potter pushed his way through the throng; he stood for a moment than gave me a shy five finger wave. I moved away from Matt and Flossie, "I must be doing something wrong." He declared, "I just keep losing one beautiful woman after another."

I ran my fingers along his stubbled cheek, "Oh Georgie, maybe you should stop searching in someone else's bed and start looking in your own."

He smiled back, "Ol' Irmagaard … she's not much to look at, and Lord knows she's got the coldest feet this side of boot hill, but … there's something to be said for the having as opposed to the wanting."

I replaced my hand with my lips and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. "I'll never forget you Georgie, you are my hero." The old fellow blushed at my praise.

"You take care of yourself Miss Cassie."

Charlie checked his pocket watch, and shifted his feet. "Um Marshal Dillon," he said, "We really should get rolling if we're gonna make Lebanon by dark."

"Kitty?" Matt asked.

I nodded taking one last look to the Boarding House porch where Gin Sasse stood next to the little girl who had lost her mother to Verdon Spencer's men. The child's hand was locked in hers. I focused on their hands for a moment and couldn't be sure whose grasp was tighter. I looked up and our eyes met. "Just a minute please Charlie."

I didn't wait for his answer but walked through the crowd to Gin, with Matt following behind me. In the weeks since Gabe's death the Widow Sasse had kept her sorrow to herself, seeking the comfort of no one as she tended to those who had been injured at Black Mesa and the little girl who'd suffered so severely under Spencer's rule. There had been no relatives to claim a right to the orphan and I had to reckon this was God's way of making amends.

I bit my lip as I stood before her; I guess I'd hoped for some magic words to say which would lessen the hurt I knew she was feeling. Instead it was she who reached out to me. "Gabe thought the world of you Cassie, I guess I should have been a little jealous at times, but I wasn't."

"Why not?" I asked.

"I think you be knowing that … what you and Matthew have … it's not so different from what Gabe and I had … it's a feeling that the other is always there, even though we may have been separated by miles and miles, I always knew a part of him was here," her hand let go of mine to pat her chest, "locked in my heart."

I nodded because my throat was too tight for words to find their way out.

"You and Matthew must cherish each other, tis a gift you are the one for the other."

I looked down at my feet so she wouldn't see the tears I was blinking back. Matt leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. I heard the words he whispered for her ears. "He's still there you know, he always will be..."

Behind us Charlie cleared his throat loudly, "Either you leave with me now, or save the trip for tomorrow …"

"Off with you then - God's speed and God's Blessings be to you both."

With his hand to my back Matt guided me to the waiting coach, he gave me a hand up and then climbed in behind me.

"So long…" They called. "Adios."

I leaned over Matt and waved as Charlie released the break and cracked the whip. The coach moved with a jerk. I continued watching out the window until Rubicon was nothing more than a speck silhouetted against the Texas horizon.

The end


End file.
